


Outlast

by Jdragon122



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel True Forms, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Blood and Violence, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cas Whump, Case Fic, Castiel (Supernatural)'s True Form, Dark, Dean Hates Witches, Dean Whump, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Male OC - Freeform, No Mary Winchester, Panic Attacks, Profound Bond, Sam is okay though... mostly, Season/Series 11, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean Winchester, Temporary Character Death, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Topping from the Bottom, Trueform Castiel, Wings, female oc - Freeform, literally only a couple sentences, timeline takes place vaguely after Lucifer is exorcised from Cas, very brief scene that might be considered noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 83,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jdragon122/pseuds/Jdragon122
Summary: It seemed like a normal case. It always does... Dean has never seen Castiel, the real Castiel. But he’s never really thought about it until the truth of it is thrown in his face, abruptly, and violently. A case out in the deserts of Arizona and old Native American lands uncover a long dormant evil that reemerges when the brothers and the angel stumble upon it. The evil is hungry for power and what powerful being is more tempting than an angel. With Cas suddenly ripped from the brothers, stranded in the middle of the desolate wilderness, they must find a way to save their friend. With the clock ticking and their resources dwindling, Sam and Dean must find a way to defeat the evil and save Cas — before Cas becomes twisted beyond recognition, and before the hunters become the hunted.





	1. No one in Nowhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! I'm so excited! I've been slowly working on this fic for over a year now. I'm so glad to finally be able to share it with you guys! It was such a process and sometimes gave me a headache - but I loved every moment of it :D This fic is fully completed, which means I can update weekly yaaay!! I will most likely upload on Saturdays ;) so keep an eye out!
> 
> But before y'all dive in I have to thank my dear dear friends who have helped me through this project:  
> [lunastories](http://lunastories.tumblr.com/)... although we barely just got to talking because of our FlipFest challenge a couple months ago - you have been one of my main supporters and motivators :3 You've listened to me rant about the writing woes but kept encouraging me and pushed me to get off my lazy bum and write XD I can't thank you enough <3 Bro, you are so amazing and I'm so glad that we became friends. I really hope you enjoy reading this - I know you like the dark stuff hehehe  
> [xbooksandtea](https://xbooksandtea.tumblr.com/)\- you have also been with me through this looooong drawn out process lol. I know life is keeping you a busy bee ;) but it makes me happy whenever I get a chance to talk to you and we get to spill our creative ideas ;) thank you for listening to me rant and for being an awesome art/writing buddy and friend <3  
> [magicknightriderjellyfish](http://magicknightriderjellyfish.tumblr.com/)\- your encouragement has also kept me going through this painful process XD Spilling crack or angsty ideas with you is a blast. I know I've given you a lot of teasers as to this fic ;) so hopefully it will live up to my cruel hype haha
> 
> Now! Things to know about the fic: It's set in canon around season 11 (after Lucifer is expelled from Cas), so anything past season 11 won't be in here. And any gamers may have guessed from the title - this fic was inspired by the horror game, Outlast, specifically Outlast 2. After watching Markiplier's playthrough my brain went wild and this is what it came up with (see if you can find all the Easter eggs ;) ) *sigh* Aaaaand I'll shut up now lol. Now you may read :D I hope ya'll enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

**October 13th: 2:02 pm**

It wasn’t supposed to go this way.

This was just a regular salt and burn but now it had gone completely sideways. Things could never be simple, could they?

Dean tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. It mixed with the flames that choked the air and clawed at his chest as he struggled for breath. The heat was intense, singeing the edges of his tattered clothes and threatening to devour his skin, already painted red and black.

But despite the fire, he continued to crawl through the burning timber. His whole body screamed but he pushed through. His arms began to shake.

No. Keep going.

The wood ahead of him cracked, sending hot embers and splinters raining down on him. It crashed perilously close to his head, the lumber giving way to a view of the landscape. The sky stretched out beyond what used to be a lonely church on a hill. But now it was burning, drowning in tongues of flame.

A bright light cut across Dean’s path and he felt it land on him, burning hotter into his skin than any fire could. He froze in fear, a ringing in his ears. He knew what it was — and that it was inescapable. He only hoped that Sam would make it — that he had given him enough time.

He felt the light intensify, the presence closing in on him. The ringing grew louder and louder, a cry mingled with wrathful vengeance. Dean closed his eyes.

This was it. He was done.

He only hoped that Sam could find a way to save Cas without him.

 

_____________________

 

**October 7th: 11:15 pm**

**Location: Grand Canyon Village, Arizona**

 

The lights of the small gas station flickered as the man at the counter lazily began to count the earnings of the day. His tired eyes glanced at the watch on his wrist; 11:15 pm. Damn it. He was supposed to be done fifteen minutes ago.

He sighed, removing his nametag and barely looking over the scratched letters of his name: “Ethan”. The man proceeded to lock up the register, check the back and went to grab the small bag he hid behind the counter. Finally he could go home and watch that soap opera he’d been meaning to see for a while now.

As he shouldered the camouflage pack, Ethan dug in his pockets for the keys to the rusty truck sitting outside. By the time he was at the door, he was still fishing around for them.

“Where are my damn keys?” He began to pat himself down. When that failed him, he huffed and knelt to feel in his bag.

“Aha! There you are.” He pulled the jingling keys out from the open bag and stood. The man shoved the keys back in his pocket and made to step out the door.

A tall silhouette blocked his path and Ethan jumped, barely holding back a yelp as he leapt away from the stranger. He stopped to catch his breath, holding a hand over his chest before letting out an annoyed huff.

“Dude, the station’s closed. Come back later,” he glared at the figure before stepping around him. He didn't want to deal with another customer tonight.

A hand grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Ethan flinched, looking down at the hand illuminated by the moonlight.

It was filthy, covered in dirt and — blood.

Ethan stared at it, frozen. He tried to pull away but the grip tightened.

“Let go man,” his voice trembled as he ripped the hand off him. The figure let go, its grip slipping away and dropping to its side.

“Map.” The voice was clearly masculine, but there was a tiredness and fear in it that dragged his tone down to the level of gravel. “Map,” the man repeated.

Ethan studied what he could see of the newcomer. He sucked in a breath when he made out red stained clothes and weathered skin in the dim light. Holy shit, this guy was a mess.

“Map!” The man shouted. The sudden outburst shook Ethan from his surprise. “Not much time!”

“Shit. Okay, okay.” The employee quickly turned to unzip his backpack with trembling hands and withdrew a crumpled sheet of paper. He unfolded it and showed it to the man.

The figure took a shaky breath, raising a broken and bloodied finger to jab at a point on the map. He paused, swaying slightly as a cough wracked his frame. It was a wet, heavy sound, causing liquid to drip from his lips and unto the floor.

“Dude are you okay?”

The man looked up at Ethan, meeting his gaze with wide, puffy eyes. He said nothing but lowered his finger, leaving a blotch of red where he’d tapped the paper. Ethan looked at it, frowning at the remote location the man had indicated.

“Supai? That’s nearly eight miles away. Did you come all the way from Supai?!”

The man blinked, a light sparking briefly in his eyes. But it was soon replaced by a deep anguish, liquefying and causing the light to dance in his gaze. He took another shuddering breath, a great intake of air into his heaving chest.

“Dead. All dead. Didn’t escape…” He stood there, relaxing as the words escaped him. He took a deep breath, shuddering as he exhaled. Relief spread across his face as he gave one last look at the man in front of him.

And then he fell, collapsing onto the cold stone floor.

“Sir. Sir! Oh my god, oh my god!”

Blood began to pool around the man, seeping into the ground and embedding itself in the cracks of the tile. His eyes remained open. His gaze clear but distant, a lasting look of peace frozen on his face.

And there he stayed until the dawn came, and with it, the sound of sirens as the sun rose to start another day.

 

__________________

 

**October 10th: 3:13 pm**

**Location: The Bunker | Lebanon, Kansas**

 

“So he just fell on the floor and died,” Dean sighed as he read the line of the article. “Dude was messed up. Cracked ribs, broken fingers, brain damage and a stab wound. Probably died of internal bleeding or infection.”

“And the witness said the guy came from Supai. That’s a long way to go with a hole in your stomach,” Sam drummed his fingers against the smooth wood of the table.

“No, that's where the guy _said_ he thought he came from. Other dude didn't talk much. Just pointed at the name and bit the dust,” Dean slid his laptop across the table. Sam grabbed and spun it around.

The younger Winchester pursed his lips as he scanned the screen. “Hmm,” he hummed, hands resting under his chin in thought. “Is there something else that might suggest anything?”

“You wanna go check it out?”

“It sounds interesting. Not sure if it’s supernatural but we can judge that once we get there.”

Dean nodded, picking up his phone and tapping the screen. “I’m gonna see if Cas wants to tag along.”

Sam eyed his brother as he thumbed the small device, the familiar crease of his brow pinching his face into a stony expression.

“It may not be anything,” Sam said after a pause. Dean glanced up, studying his brother’s careful expression.

“Yeah well it'd be nice to check up on him,” he continued to poke at his phone, “Make sure the guy’s still kicking.”

Sam nodded, shutting the laptop and rising from his chair. “Okay then, I'll go pack.”

“And I'll grab the beer,” Dean groaned as he got up, “It's a long way to Arizona.”

 

_________________

 

**October 11th: 1:07 pm**

**Location: Grand Canyon Village, Arizona**

 

“Cas almost here?” Sam asked as he and Dean shut the doors to the impala. The sun lay high in the sky, scorching the land with its blazing yellow eye. The road had taken them across Kansas, through Colorado and finally into the deserts of Arizona. The red slabs of rock had heightened as they neared, growing into layered spires and plateaus.

“He said he should be here in an hour,” Dean mumbled as he looked up at the white surface of the morgue. He readjusted the blue tie around his neck as the heat continued to beat down on them.

“Yeah well, let’s see what we can find.”

They stepped into the building, FBI badges in hand as they approached the front desk. They went through their normal spiel, ultimately getting access to the body. The coroner led them along, hustling them into a room. The body lay stretched out on a metallic tray, the white sheet doing nothing to lessen the smell emanating from it.

“Here he is,” the coroner sighed as he closed the door, “Blake Langermann.”

The pale sheet lifted to reveal a middle aged man, scrapes and cuts littering his upper torso. The harshness of his journey was displayed on his skin with black and yellow bruises. The brothers grimaced when they saw the stab wound, now clean and bloodless but showing through to the inside of his stomach.

“Man, that must’ve hurt,” Dean mumbled as they rounded the table. “It looks clean. Any idea what it was?”

The coroner scratched his grey chin, “Well it looks like a ten inch knife wound. But the direction the vic came from is mostly uninhabited. He might've run into some thugs.”

“How'd you know where he came from?” Sam asked.

“There was a blood trail. It led down into the wilderness towards Supai — at least that's what the police told me. They lost the trail about a mile out.”

Sam glanced at Dean. His brother met his eyes and nodded.

Dean coughed, grabbing the coroner's attention. “So Supai, what's out there?”

“Nothing much. Just an old town. Not a lot of people there. And no one's traveled there in years.”

“So they didn't try to see if anyone out there knew anything?”

“Well agent, it's a long trek to get there, even by helicopter. And no offense to Mr. Langermann, but I don't think the force thinks it's worth their time and money.”

Dean nodded, “Well thank you sir. Then we’ll just take a last look and then we’ll be outa your hair.” The coroner hummed and turned to leave them alone with the corpse.

Sam sighed, dragging a hand across his short stubble. “What do you think?”

“I don't know,” Dean grabbed the clipboard laying on the table, “Guy didn't have much on him. Doesn't look like anything unusual. Could just be a murder.”

“But he had specifically pointed to Supai. There's gotta be some meaning behind that.”

“Maybe…” The older Winchester drummed his fingers on the board, deep in thought until he heard the click of the door knob.

“Sorry agents, I think one of your buddies is here. Not sure why there's three of ya but I'm sure it was just a mix up.”

The brothers looked up in time to see Cas walk through the doorway. The angel met the boys’ gaze with a nod, hands resting in his coat pockets as he strolled towards them. “Hello agents.”

“Hey Cas,” Dean let slip a small smile as the coroner walked out of earshot.

“Hello Dean,” the angel smiled back before looking down at the body, “Is there something you need of me?”

“Uh… yeah. We’re trying to see if this was our kinda gig. Dude fell over and died after walking for god knows how long out in the… what are you doing?”

Castiel prodded at the corpse, leaning over it as he scrutinized the dead man. The angel didn’t answer but continued to squint as he removed the thin cloth and gingerly touched the gaping wound. Then he slowly opened it, revealing more of the innards.

“Ew, gross man,” Dean squirmed as Cas’s actions were accompanied by various squishing noises.

Cas froze, moving closer to look at the wound.

“What?” Sam and Dean both followed his gaze.

Cas stared, and slowly backed away from the table, “This is not a natural knife wound.”

“What do you mean?” Dean peered at the body, wrinkling his nose, “We didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

“That’s because you can’t. You’re human.” The Winchesters frowned at him as the angel drew the sheet back over the man. “It’s — I haven’t seen this kind of magic in a long time.”

“Magic?”

“Yes… it’s very old. It looks like a poison but, I’m not sure.”

“So this _is_ our kinda thing?” Sam asked.

Dean mumbled, “Seems like it.”

“Where did they think he came from?” Castiel glanced at the short list of possessions on the clipboard.

“Supai. Some ghost town out in the middle of nowhere.”

Castiel’s frown deepened, “I do not remember evil residing there.”

“But you think there could be something out there? The police hadn’t checked it out because of its remote location but we might be able to.”

“I think so. This is different than what I've seen. It would be wise.”

Sam glanced at Dean, eyebrows raised in question, “You know there's no road to Supai. If we are going there then it's on our own, on foot.”

Dean held back a groan but his lip curled in a grimace. “So eight miles, on foot, without baby?”

“Yep.”

Cas frowned as Dean grumbled, “I would fly you there if I could but, I can at least help you traverse the area.”

“Well, since it looks like we’re gonna have to go there anyway, I’d rather have you with us. There’s probably mountain lions and crap out there.”

“And we’ll need the proper gear,” Sam added, “And enough food and water.”

Dean sighed and gave the covered body another once over. “Well then we should probably go get ready. It’ll be a long, hard trek.”

“For you at least,” Cas’s lip quirked up in the hint of a smirk.

“Oh shut up, don’t rub it in with your angel BS. It’s totally unfair.”

The angel’s mouth curled slightly. Then Dean turned and opened the door, herding them out of the building and back to the parking lot, where they proceeded to drive back to the nearest hotel to prepare for the day ahead.

 

_________________

 

**October 12th: 11:12 am**

**Location: 2 hours out from Grand Canyon Village**

 

The landscape around them was the same as it had been for the past couple hours. Red, rocky, and hot — very hot. The ground was practically sizzling with the heat of the sun, almost at its peak.

It’s not that the land didn’t have its own unique beauty, but the Winchesters couldn’t appreciate it with sweat dripping from their bodies and air struggling to get to their lungs.

“Why the hell did we wear pants?” Dean finally panted as liquid beaded on his brow, threatening to spill into his eyes. He dragged a tired hand over it, wiping the drops away just for them to be immediately replaced.

Sam took a deep breath as he shouldered the bag he was carrying. “Because we’re stupid.”

The brothers had managed to strip down to their t-shirts, but they were seriously tempted to take those off too. Everything was just so sticky and wet, despite the dry heat.

“That’s it, I’m never turning down shorts again.” Dean reached behind him and grabbed the water from his pack, chugging down the already half empty bottle.

“Dude, save some for the trip back.”

“Ah come on. Can’t Cas just magic some up and we’re good?”

“That’s not how it works Dean.” The angel walked alongside them, looking completely content and unperturbed by the apparent oven like quality of the environment. He still wore his full business attire, starkly contrasting the Winchesters haggard and minimal garb.

“You aren’t even sweating dude. What the hell?” Dean sniped at him, mood severely worsened by heat exhaustion, dehydration, and a general pissyness of their situation.

“Temperature does not bother me and I do not sweat under any circumstances,” Castiel looked over at the dirtied Winchester, his hair messed from constant combing of fingers and grit plastered to the sweat on his neck where the hot breeze had blown.

“Well lucky you. I feel like I’m burnin’ up.”

Cas frowned and reached out a hand to feel Dean’s forehead. The hunter couldn’t help but sigh at the surprising coolness of the angel’s touch. “You don’t have a fever but your temperature is slightly elevated.”

“No shit,” Dean scoffed, “I’m gonna need a break soon.”

“Me too,” Sam took the water from his brother and downed it.

“I believe there’s a patch of trees a half a mile from here that might provide some shade. I can see it from here.” Cas squinted out at the shifting plane of plateaus and scattered brush, then back at the brothers. He eyed their bags and hesitated before speaking, “And would you like me to carry your packs?”

Dean stopped, breathing heavily as he stared at Cas. He dropped his bag unceremoniously onto the ground with a thud and a cloud of dirt. “You asshole, you couldn’t have asked that earlier?”

“It — didn’t come to mind.” Cas avoided Dean’s scrutiny and slowly reached down to pick up the bag, throwing it over his shoulder. Sam did the same and the angel accepted it before urging them forward.

“Whatever,” Dean huffed, “Let’s just get there.”

The shadow of the ironwood trees were a sweet relief from the desert of the open plains. Although only a couple degrees cooler (7.43 **°** according to Cas), the difference was imminent and the brothers slumped down in the shade.

“Mother Nature’s a bitch,” Dean muttered before taking a mouthful of turkey sandwich he’d squished into his bag.

Cas grinned and handed Sam his own food, “Yes, she is not one to take pity.”

“She better not mess with baby. If we get back and she’s all scratched up I’m gonna be pissed.”

“We’re practically dying here and you're worried about that?” Sam gave Dean an exasperated sigh.

“Hey,” Dean pointed an accusing finger at him, “You better be nice to her or she's not gonna give you a ride home.” Sam chuckled and took a bite of his sandwich.

The rest of the afternoon was spent resting and staying out of the heat. “It would be unsafe for you to continue in such conditions,” Cas said. “And if you rest and regain your strength, we can make it to Supai before nightfall.

Dean and Sam slept while Castiel watched and waited for the sun to begin its descent. When the heat of the day began to fade, he woke them to continue.

As promised, an hour later, small shacks and cabins could be spotted amongst the hills. They were scattered and few according to Cas. The closest sign of habitation was a tall windmill, its height lonely and sharp against the bright sky, sticking up like a crooked finger. It was surprisingly out of place with its dark wood and tattered blades. It spun slowly, pushed by the light breeze on the air.

“Maybe someone lives there,” Dean said as they watched the tall edifice, “It's the closest thing to us. We might be able to stay the night and get some info.”

Sam exhaled, scanning the landscape now thick with trees. The sun would be down within the next couple of hours. And Dean was right, if there was someone, it might be a step closer to solving the case — and finding a bed for the night.

They headed towards it, the temperature dropping significantly as time passed. Stars twinkled and their breaths blew out in puffs as they were forced to don their flannel and jackets again.

Then the moon rose.

The atmosphere around them changed immediately. Clouds filled the sky as they finally climbed the last hill up to the windmill. A shack resided near its base, previously hidden by the small bundle of trees and a fence surrounding the area, marking the territory as its own.

“Finally,” Dean muttered as a trodden path became visible. Castiel paused, pursing his lips and looking around at the surrounding brush. “Is something wrong?” Dean asked.

Cas blinked up at him, his brow furrowed. “Nothing.”

Dean frowned but continued to make his way up to the house. He knocked at the door, “Hello?” He waited. When no one answered he tried again. “Anyone there? We're not here to hurt you, we just need to talk to someone.” Again, he was met with silence.

Dean squinted through the windows while Sam tried the door. “It's locked.”

Dean rapped on the window, “Yeah, looks like no one's inside either. Cas why don't you… Cas?”

Dean turned to find the angel standing on the path. His back was turned to them, his head tilted up towards the moonlight. The night gave him an eerie silhouette, the tan trench coat turned black against the night sky, with only white to outline his frame. “Cas, dude, that's creepy. Come over here.” The angel didn't move.

“Nothing…” Cas’s voice drifted softly on the wind. “There is nothing. Can't you hear it?” Sam and Dean looked at each other, wearing matching confused expressions. But they stopped and listened.

The breeze brushed over them, swaying the dry grass and whispering in their ears. But the gentle rustle was all they heard. There was no creaking from the windmill or the song of crickets, no birds — no sign of any other living thing.

“Nothing,” Sam breathed out as the realization hit him.

“Well that's just peachey,” Dean muttered. As they continued to look around, they noticed more and more things out of place. It was small things: a broken rake, a muddy bucket, dust and spiderwebs woven inside the windows.

“Dean, I don't think anyone's been here for a while…” Sam glanced at Cas and back to the house.

Dean strode over to the angel, the crunching of his boots echoing loudly. “Cas, what's wrong?”

Castiel hesitated as he turned away from the light. There was confusion in his gaze, the blue of it turned grey in the low glow. “I don't know…” he spoke slowly, “Something feels… sick.”

Dean took a deep breath and looked back at Sam. He could feel it too, an underlying weight creeping in on them, following them from the shadows. Except, they could see nothing.

“I think we should keep moving,” Dean eyed the house cautiously.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam nodded, abandoning the shack and shuffling towards them. “Is there somewhere else nearby?”

Cas raised a hand, pointing past the windmill and down below. “There.”

The brothers turned and were taken aback. At first glance, the area looked like a cluster of naked trees, surrounded by a layer of mist. But when they looked closer, they saw a light, windows and buildings, all dark and wooden like the windmill.

“How the hell did we miss that?” Dean breathed in disbelief, “It's huge.”

“These clouds,” Cas’s gravelly voice was surprisingly quiet, “They're not natural.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, “Is this placed enchanted?”

“I’m not sure...”

They stared at the sight. The town becoming clearer and clearer the longer they stared. “I don't know if there's gonna be any better. You think there's people?” Dean threw his brother a questioning look.

“I guess we'll have to find out.”

“You have any idea why this Blake dude would wanna come here?”

“No idea,” Sam shrugged.

Dean exhaled slowly as he pondered. “Well whatever, we should get moving. And —” he grabbed his bag out of Cas’s hand, “— we’ll be needing flashlights.”

The way towards the town was easy. The path that started at the windmill continued down the thickening brush and straight up to the town. A wooden post marked the entrance, worn down from years of erosion with words etched into the flattened side: “Jane Village.”

“Well ain't that a cute little name,” Dean huffed as he saw beyond to the roads and houses within. He didn't see any people or indication of them, only a glow further up in the fog. The sick feeling grew heavier, a weight setting in their stomachs as silence reigned. It waited for them, seeing what they would do. Dean swallowed, his instincts telling him to turn tail and run. But they were here to figure out the problem, not hide from it. “I guess we just walk right in,” he cracked a smile.

Cas just nodded and took the first step forward. The Winchesters followed. Nothing but their footsteps could be heard. And no one but them could be seen.

“Hello!” Dean finally broke the silence. His voice was carried by the wind and faded into the darkness. He looked around, his stomach knotting as the details became apparent. Without the cover of the mist, the houses looked charred. Some were barely standing, using their thin timber as crutches as they slowly crumbled under the weight of time. These homes weren't just old — they looked abandoned.

“Cas…” Dean licked his lips, his mouth feeling dry, “What's goin’ on here?”

“Dean, there's no one here.”

“No one?” Sam whispered, as if the fog around them were some sleeping beast. “But there's supposed to be people living here. They can't just all disappear.”

“No one's been here in years Sammy.” Dean cautiously walked up to one of the houses, creaking open a door. The knob fell off with a snap.

“But —” Sam looked around in disbelief, “There were families! Children!”

“Whatever it was…” Castiel’s voice caught their attention, “We will find out what happened and stop it from happening again.”

The moon was high in the sky, shining white and cold down on the quiet village, accompanied by the twinkling stars — the only natural light.

Except…

“Where is that light coming from?” Dean pointed up the path, into the fog. The warm flickering light was small — and not enough to penetrate the white atmosphere.

The three looked at each other. With a nod, they opened the bags and dug inside until they found what they were looking for: two angel blades, and two guns.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

Dean patted his gun, “Ready.”

Castiel held up his blade, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the journey begins...  
> Feel free to leave a comment, kudos, message me on [tumblr](http://jdragon122.tumblr.com/), or ask any questions :D I'd be happy to answer them!


	2. The House of Holy's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will discover something dark inside the church...

 

**October 12th: 11:32 pm**

**Location: Jane Village | Supai, Arizona**

 

The road remained as it was; dark, cold, and silent. The gravel beneath their feet was sharp and jagged, infested with undergrowth that flourished in the place of low inhabitants. It lived — thrived, while everything around it dwindled and died.

Lifeless. Sick. That was what this place felt like.

The orange light ahead of them was farther than expected. They traveled through the mist, the fog guiding them through the maze of streets and alleyways formed by the remains of the village.

The path rose on a steady incline, becoming steeper and harder to climb as the light neared. And still it was silent. None of them dared speak, the atmosphere too oppressive and cold — a single word would shatter it's calm facade.

The glow grew brighter, finally molding into visible lanterns. The three of them stopped. The lanterns hung on posts, on either sides of the path, now fenced with loosely placed stone and mortar. The smell of dank moss and lichen rose with the surrounding mist, filling their noses as their footsteps ceased to echo.

The hill ahead steepened further and on the top, through the cloud and breaking through the moonlight was one, tall, solitary church. The cross atop its roof was the only clearly visible feature as it towered above the village, it’s cold, stone walls stained black in the night. Dean couldn't help but shiver as a breeze blew past.

“As if this place wasn't creepy enough,” Sam muttered under his breath.

“I know,” Dean said, looking up at the church, “And of course we have to go look at it.”

“Of course,” Sam sighed and gripped his flashlight.

They made their way up. The grand door had been left ajar, welcoming them in. The inside was even colder than the night chill, and the smell atrocious.

“Oh god,” Dean resisted the urge to gag, “Definitely something dead in here.” Sam covered his mouth and the angel wrinkled his nose, but stared unblinking into the dim corridor.

The stone had obviously been white at some point, but had long since browned and eroded. Chips of it lay scattered on the ground where tiles lay uneven. Surprisingly, no plants could be seen within the crumbling walls, no weeds or moss that had been seen in such abundance just outside, but the heavy atmosphere remained, in fact it became more dense, choking the air.

Their shoes scuffed against the old stone floor, leading them down the hall and through another door. This second corridor was smaller, the walls plain and illuminated by a single window. Moonlight leaked from it, pouring into the space wherever its rays could reach. It ended with a wall, splitting the corridor into two different directions. But this wall was not as simple as the rest. It had one, lonely cross.

It hung from the stone, somehow visible despite the dark shadows that plagued it. Dean glanced to see Sam and Cas staring at it. Sam looked back at him and shrugged. Castiel stood transfixed. He was rigid, cold like the stone of the church itself. As Dean watched him, the angel’s eyes widened and his breath suddenly grew fast.

“Cas?” his worried tone only heightened his own anxious mind. And then he felt it. An old feeling, a strange push and pull as something toxic and nauseating reached his senses. He gasped as the presence overwhelmed him, the foul cloud forcing its way down his throat and turning his stomach. It smelled like death.

Sam flinched a moment later and Dean knew that he had sensed it too. “Cas...” Dean started to raise his gun, ready to cock and fire at the smallest of movement.

The angel turned to meet his gaze, something like fear in them. “We shouldn't be here.”

“What the hell does that mean —” Dean stopped.

A haggard breathing filled the room, in and out of dusty lungs that held onto an old frame.

Old. Yes, very old — and strong.

A shadow moved below the cross. A scraping as worn and calloused skin dragged across the floor. The thing slinked towards them, hunched like an old woman with grey scraggly hair. Rags were all that covered its thin arms and body. But it's eyes — it's eyes were bright, shining, and yellow.

The three of them stood frozen as it crawled and stopped about five feet from them. It straightened, hair rolling down to its waist and bony hands decorated with too long nails hung at its sides. Dean blinked when he realized that it was indeed an old woman, small but still — human. A hiss escaped her as yellowed teeth appeared beneath her curled lips — a smile, Dean realized with disgust. Every gut instinct told him to shoot but he was somehow frozen, his finger refusing to pull the trigger.

They stood opposite each other and waited, the hag’s ragged breath filling their ears and the weight around them making it feel almost claustrophobic. Finally Dean shook himself enough to speak. “Who are you?” he asked in a stern tone. She did not look at him.

“Did you hear me?” he asked more aggressively. “I said who are —”

With a wave of her hand Dean was flown backwards into the wall. The sudden impact dazed him. He vaguely recognized the presence of Sam beside him as he grunted and fought against her hold, his gun pinned to the wall with his hand.

She strode forward, stronger and bigger than before towards the only other standing occupant in the room — Castiel. His blade was ready but he made no move to attack. He only stood, face expressionless as his blue eyes rivaled her yellow.

The woman sighed, her cruel smile widening as she approached the angel, reaching a shaky hand towards his face.

She took a deep breath, her dry voice louder than seemed possible for the fragility of her body, “You're so beautiful.” She laid her long fingers against the angel’s cheek. Cas’s eyes flared dangerously, a snarl curling on his lips as he grabbed her wrist, but he didn't pull her away — he couldn't.

“You don't know how long it's been since I've seen something like you,” her wispy voice trailed off. “I've only had pitiful humans for so long, but they can't do nearly as much as you… you'll make a good guardian, bright one.”

She finally let her hand be thrown aside as the angel continued to stare at her. The heat of his gaze, Dean knew, was not something to take lightly. But still she matched his intensity, refusing to blink.

Cas’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he shifted slightly. “I am not your guardian, nor will I ever be. Let us go, and we will give you no trouble.”

She cackled, a sharp sound that penetrated the small corridor. “Why would I want to? This is a gift. Beings like you have long avoided this place. But you have come here, you have come to me.”

She attempted to step closer only for Cas to raise his blade. “Don't,” he warned, “I know what you’ve done here witch. I can see it in you. I know what you did to those people. Let us leave or I will make you.”

Her expression soured, her grin faltering and twisting into a sneer. “You will have no choice.” The witch’s eyes glowed brighter, her hands curling into claws at her sides. “But don't worry. I promise it'll be worth it in the end.”

Dean watched as a hand twisted to grab something behind her back. His eyes widened when he saw a flash of metal. “Cas, knife!”

The angel jumped back in time to see a long, twisting dagger slice through the air, missing his chest by an inch. Cas stood off and twirled his knife into better position.

Sam and Dean continued to push against the magic pinning them, but their efforts made no difference. They couldn't help — they couldn't do anything.

The witch paused, leering now as she held the dagger in front of her. Dean saw Cas glance down at it and go rigid. Dean followed his gaze and what he saw confused him. The dagger was white. No — the liquid  _ on _ it was white, glowing and dripping from the blade.

“I really hope that's not what it looks like,” Dean called out, anything to distract her and give Cas time. But she only advanced.

Cas met her in the middle, his blade grazing past as he avoided her high swing. She was faster than she looked. Cas ducked then swung and stepped to the side. He ran to barrel her into the wall but she squirmed out of the way. His shoulder slammed against the stone, cracking it. Then she was there, one hand on his throat and the other with the dagger held high. Dean’s heart leapt to his throat as the weapon came down — and was stopped by Cas’s knife.

The brothers pushed again, and this time the magic gave ever so slightly. They persisted and felt it give again. All of the witch’s focus was on Cas, not on them. With a final push the brothers dropped to the floor, guns in hand. They didn't hesitate as they raised and fired. Silver bullets pocketed her skin, dark blood spraying from her limbs. She jolted with each shot but didn't fall back.

Castiel grabbed the mangled hand on his neck and twisted it. With a sickening crunch, she let go and yelped, retracting the dagger. The angel kicked, sending her flying backwards onto the floor. The brothers fired again, sending bullets through her brain and chest. But still she rose, now a dirty, bloody mess.

Castiel rose with her and charged forward before she could fully recover. His blade sliced through her arm and she let out a hawk-like screech, light emanating from her wound as the divine power cut through her skin and muscle.

Rage twisted her face as she began to tremble. Then she screamed, a sound that punctured the air and forced the brothers to cover their ears. The glass of the window shattered, the shards raining down on them and causing all but Cas and the witch to duck. Her blood began to pool, dripping down her pale skin in puddles on the ground. She paused, staring at Castiel in front of her.

The angel stood with his shoulders’ broad, eyes hard and calculating. “Let us go.” The witch laughed again, stepping forward and painting the stones red.

A bright light filled the room, the Winchester's could barely look at it. Castiel’s eyes flashed blue, a glow that spread up and out from his shoulders, covering the wall and illuminating a giant pair of wings. They stretched across the wall, huge and menacing, feathers crumbling as they enveloped the room. “ **_Let us go_ ** _. _ ” Castiel's voice boomed and echoed, shaking the very stones.

The woman hissed, covering her eyes but still laughing. “ **You cannot scare me** .” Her voice matched his intensity, thrown throughout the space above the ring of grace.

Cas blinked in surprise, but it soon disappeared as he yelled and ran forward, smashing her into the wall with a crack. She yelped and clawed at him as he pinned her beneath him, gripping his blade and ready to deliver the killing blow. He raised it, about to plunge it into her chest when he gasped.

Cas dropped his blade, shaking as he reached down to clutch his lower abdomen.

“CAS!!”

A long dagger protruded from his skin, still glowing as he staggered back. The witch withdrew it with with a quick pull and scrambled to her feet. Cas knelt in front of her, gasping and staring wide eyed. She was smiling, eyeing him as he doubled over, biting back a cry between his teeth. She waited.

“Cas? Cas?!” Dean clambered for his knife, as the bullets seemed to be doing squat. He withdrew it to find the witch grinning down at him.

“You don't know what he is, do you?”

Dean froze, all words caught in his throat as he heard Cas’s strangled cries behind her. He was barely upright, struggling to stay on his knees.

“You don't know him, not really,” she walked forward and knelt down. Her breath was as wretched and sickening as her appearance. Her clawed hand gripped his face, forcing Dean to look at her. “He is torn, he is broken — a mutant. But I can help him. You have never seen him in his full glory. I will make him stronger, you’ll see.”

She turned to watch as Cas shook, and forced Dean to watch with her. He couldn't turn to check on Sam, who he could hear struggling on the floor behind him. But soon that seemed less and less urgent.

Cas was panting, watching as the liquid began to spread over his skin. It glowed as the white veins flowed, a sizzling sound burned in Dean's ears that he wished he could forget. Then came the yelling. Dean watched in horror as the angel began to glow again, light leaking from his eyes and mouth.

_ Oh fuck, oh fuck!!  _

Dean felt the adrenaline jump start his system as he made to run forward. He pulled at the witch’s arm, trying to free himself of her grip. FInally in a moment of desperation he yelled and brought his knife around and down into her forearm.

She screamed as it ran through the bone, glowing to accompany the gash on her other limb. Her claws dug into Dean’s face as she looked down at the silver blade protruding from her flesh. With a hiss she grabbed the hilt and pulled it out, leaving a waterfall of blood and a copper smell. She turned to Dean, digging her nails deeper into his neck. In her bright yellow eyes, annoyance and a hint of amusement.

“You care about him don't you…” her voice was gruff and low. Dean continued to fight her, sneering as he felt a wetness where her nails hooked into him, but all of his strength did not move her.

Finally Dean yelled in frustration, “What are you doing to him bitch?!”

“I'm helping him reach his full potential. He could be so much more if you hadn't dragged him in the mud with you. Is that not why you are like this angel?” Dean saw Cas turn towards them, face shocked — and very angry. “I will make him whole again. Don't worry.” She threw Dean to the ground, pinning him beside his brother. “Now…” the witch returned her gaze to Castiel. “Don't you feel it? It is a gift.” She threw aside the angel blade and knelt, resting her bloody dagger over her knees.

Castiel stared at it, then looked up at her with a snarl. “It is not a gift — it is poison!” Cas spat at her with a hiss.

“Ahh it may hurt now. But it will be worth it. Just a while longer.” She watched with cruel satisfaction as Cas began to flicker, his light blinking in and out.

Dean felt his heart stop. _No._ _He can't die — he can't._

The angel heaved, falling forward onto all fours, his trembling visible and hands curled into fists. Cas glared at the witch with one last growl before lighting up. This time he screamed. Rays of light extended from his body as he threw his head back, bleaching the room white.

“NOOOOOOO!!!” Dean screamed.  _ Not dead. Please don't be dead. _

The witch’s hold suddenly snapped, releasing the pressure on the Winchesters. Dean sat up, blinking and struggling to see. He stumbled to his feet and looked back to vaguely see his brother doing the same.

A bark of laughter drew his attention forward and he was shocked and relieved to see Castiel holding the witch by her neck, lifting her into the air. His expression was feral, furious. The angel’s entire stance was different, stronger and more confident. But the woman just laughed within his hold, not bothering to struggle. The dagger was still in her hand. She raised it slowly, holding it within the angel’s line of sight. Dean saw Cas’s still glowing eyes track it cautiously.

“Drix,” the witch spoke with utter confidence. Castiel frowned, his brow furrowing in concentration. He shook, his hand struggling to keep his grip on her.

He glared at her, his teeth bared. “Ozazm!” 

“Drix!” She said again, “Drix, darbs!”

Cas growled in defiance before lifting her higher and throwing her against the wall. Blood gurgled from her mouth as she cackled again, letting herself slide to the floor, “Iolcam teloc. Teloc.”

“No…” Cas grit out, swaying as he stood with hands balled into fists.

“Cas?” Dean approached him with an outstretched hand, “Cas are you okay —”

“Dean,” Cas said in warning, his glow fading but a wildness lingering in his eyes. “Get — out.”

Dean frowned, his expression hardening. “We’re not leaving here without you.”

Then out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw the witch hold out the dagger, her smile ever widening. “Teloc.”

Before Dean could react, he found himself on the wall, several inches off the ground, a hand around his throat as he stared at Castiel in shock, the angel holding him with unnatural strength against the stone. Dean could feel the power emanating from the angel, rolling off him in waves. Dean was stricken as the energy assaulted his senses. Combined with the witch's aura, Dean could scarcely see. The world wavered, blotches of blue and white distorting his vision.

“Ca—” Dean tried to speak as his trachea and esophagus were both crushed under Cas’s hand. Shock flitted through him as the realization hit him, Cas could easily snap his neck.

He sputtered and gasped as he tried to breath, but he could only stare and hold onto Cas’s coat arm. “Ca— plea— fi—”

“Cas!” Dean heard Sam yell as his brother came into his peripheral vision. “Put him down!” Sam hesitantly raised his gun. “Please, put him down.”

The witch stayed on the ground, letting out a laugh that grated on their ears. “See! Don't you see! He’ll be even more powerful once you're gone!”

Dean could feel the blood drain from his face, his vision fuzzing white like static as his body suddenly revolted, chest involuntarily heaving to suck in any last trace of air — but there was none. First went his vision, then his hearing, everything muted until the only thing Dean could feel was the coat sleeve under his hands. There was nothing left he could do.

From somewhere distant Dean heard panic spike in his brother’s voice, “Castiel stop!”

“I —” Cas’s voice was clearer than Sam’s, and the hand around Dean’s neck shook, fingers twitching to keep their hold. Suddenly Cas tensed, Dean panicking as he prepared for his neck to snap. “Go,” the one word echoed from Cas’s mouth and then Dean dropped.

He gasped, taking a deep and desperate breath, his blurred vision preventing him from seeing anything clearly. He felt a hand grab his jacket and pull him up. He stumbled and let himself be led along. “Dean, we need to go!” Sam's voice rang in his ear as his brother dragged him down the corridor.

“But Cas —”

“We need to leave!”

Dean blinked as he tried to reorient himself, staggering and tripping like a blind man. If it weren't for Sam, he'd be on the ground, but finally  his vision cleared as his breathing evened out. There was a pounding in his head as his blood flowed back to his brain. His feet caught up with him as they sprinted through the doors, back through the first corridor and out into the night.

The moon sat high and huge in the black expanse, sprinkled with stars. But its light didn’t reach the lowly ground as the Winchesters made their way. “Still got your flashlight!” Dean shouted as the gravel flew under his feet.

Sam fumbled with something in his hand, grabbing it with a satisfying click that sent a beam of light spilling across their path. “Got it!”

There was an explosion and a flash of red in front of them that had them skidding to a halt. They were panting hard as orange flames writhed and grew.

“What the fuck!” Dean breathed as a ball of fire shot passed them, its roar burning in his ears.

“Dean! She’s shooting at us, we need to get off the road!”

Dean didn't argue or question the fact there were fireballs apparently charging towards them. Again they ran, Sam leading the way as they vaulted over the short stone wall and towards the forest of trees.

The witch hissed and laughed as she watched the hunters flee, the sound echoing across the plains as they sprinted. Her presence receded the further they got, but her voice still cut through the night.

“ **A merifri i ozien! Iolcam teloc, A merifri iolcam teloc!** ”

Both Winchesters shivered as her voice hung dangerously in the air. No knowledge was needed to understand the darkness behind her words.

The fog thickened, biting at their ankles and ripping away their air, clawing at them like wolves. Branches scratched at their faces as the forest grew around them, until the church faded from view and the night grew quiet once more.

They were alone.

They stood there, in the forest, their breath loud in their ears. Dean heard his shake and shudder. He looked to his brother who looked as shocked as he felt. Dean looked around, feeling lost in more ways than one.

He took a deep breath, letting the weight settle.

“What the fuck just happened?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enochian translations:  
> "Drix" - bring down  
> "Ozazm" - make me  
> "Darbs" - obey  
> "Iolcam teloc" - bring forth death  
> "A merifri i ozien! Iolcam teloc, A merifri iolcam teloc!" - The angel is mine! Bring forth death, the angel bring forth death  
> (Apologies for any errors in my translations! And feel free to correct me :D)


	3. Askuwheteau

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers escape to the woods to gather their wits and think of a plan.

**October 13th: 1:16 am**

 

The trees were cracks against the dotted sky, black slashes cutting through an infinite horizon. They were tall, sharp, and unforgiving. They glared down on the lone hunters, intruding on their land of solitude. They were not welcome here.

The Winchesters ignored the gaze of the trees, continuing to cut through the brush and brave the rocky terrain. No moonlight made it passed the angry branches, only a solitary beam led their way.

Dean held the flashlight with white knuckles, face frozen in a permanent frown, his brows pinched and jaw set. Sam followed behind him, silently keeping watch. They had been walking for a good hour and neither of them had said more than a few words. They needed to find shelter and at least try and think of  _ something _ .

The forest continued to condense as the way grew darker and Dean swung at a branch that clawed his jacket. It snapped and fell to the ground. He huffed and kicked it, skidding the dirt and rocks underneath and stomped off. Sam kept his mouth shut.

They marched through the hills. The temperature had dropped even lower now, but they didn't stop. The moon rose remained the same as the ground grew steeper. Dean slipped on a pile of loose rock, quickly catching himself on his hands before forcing himself up again. “Fuck!”

Sam took a deep breath as he watched his brother's heaving shoulders. “Dean, please.”

Dean didn't bother to turn around. He just closed his eyes, breathing in and out.

“We can talk once we find somewhere to stay. But just — we’ll figure it out, alright.” Sam sighed, waiting.

“I just — I don’t know… how did we — how did this happen?” Dean took a deep breath, swallowing hard. “And I don’t know what the fuck that bitch did to Cas and —” Dean kept breathing, staring angrily at the dirt at his feet. He snarled and kicked it, flinging a cloud of dust.

“Dean, we will find a way. We always do. We just need some time. We need to rest and look for any clues or —”

“Oh yeah! Like we can find anything out here in the middle of goddamn nowhere!” Dean spun around, hands balled into fists. “Unless you've got some magic interweb knowledge tucked into that brilliant brain of yours, we can't even research anything! We’re stuck here and who knows what she’ll do to him.”

“Cas will make it. He's not helpless, you know that. But we are no good to him tired and without a plan.”

“Oh I have a plan. I'll put a bullet in her brain, one that actually works. If that doesn't kill her, then cut her head off. That'll slow her down.”

Sam pursed his lips, “Dean, I understand. But there's nothing we can do  _ now… _ ” Sam waited for Dean to rant again, but he didn't. “So… let’s rest.”

Dean looked up at the dark sky, his frown still prominent. “Fine.” His shoulders slumped as he scuffed the earth one last time and kept walking.

Several minutes passed in tense silence, the weight of the situation still settling. It only made the feeling worse — the feeling of worry, of hope, of guilt. But in typical Winchester fashion, it was shoved down for now.

Dean could feel his weariness pressing down on him, making his eyelids heavy and limbs slow. It was annoying as hell. He had to keep moving, he couldn't have sleep get in the way — especially now. Keep moving.

Dean was snapped out of his mindless march as a crack reached his ears. It was soft, barely audible, but he was awake enough to know that the sound didn’t come from them.

He stopped, holding out his arm and waved for Sam to come closer. Sam quietly stepped towards him until he was in sight of the flashlight. Dean held a finger to his lips and pointed towards the direction of the noise. Sam glanced over to where Dean now swung the light. It illuminated the dried bark and wirey bushes but nothing more. The dark was still cold and silent.

“Quiet,” Dean mouthed and Sam nodded, treading lightly forward. They made it a couple steps before Sam looked back.

“Dean!” Sam grabbed his brother and pulled him down as a gunshot split the air, ricocheting off the rock.

“Shit!” They clambered behind a nearby boulder, pulling out their own guns and pressing themselves to the stone. “Don't shoot!” Dean called.

There was a pause before another voice answered. “Who are you?” It was deep and old.

“We got lost. We’re trying to find a place for the night.”

There was a rustle and an unknown word muttered under the stranger’s breath. “No one comes to this place unless they mean to… Come where I can see you.” The brothers gave each other hesitant looks before stepping out with their hands and guns raised.

The man in front of them stood below them in the foliage, a shotgun raised with smoke leaking from the barrel. He was tall and round about the middle, long silver-black hair tied in two braids framing his dark, wrinkled face.

“I will lower my gun if you lower yours.”

Dean slowly placed his gun back in his belt and Sam followed.

The flashlight shed enough light for the man to be seen clearly. A gray feather hung near his deep brown eyes, aged by crow’s feet. He wore a pair of old jeans and a worn blue plaid covered by a vest of light leather, embroidered in various colors of red and blue.

“We good?” Dean eyed the man’s gun. The man squinted at the pair of them, before letting the shotgun fall to his side.

“Why are you here?”

“Like I said, we got lost —”

“No lies!” The man raised his shotgun again.

“Wow! Alright, alright. But you won’t believe the truth.”

The man sighed, lowering the gun. “You may be surprised. I have seen many things in my time.”

Sam slowly walked forward, keeping his hands up. “We will tell you. We swear, but… we’ve been out here for a while. Is there somewhere safe we can discuss this?”

The man’s eyes flicked between the younger Winchester and Dean, seeing the blood and dirt caking their clothes. “Yes... But first, I must know your names.”

“I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean,” Sam gestured to himself and his brother.

The man sniffed, stepping closer and using his gun as a walking stick. “At least that is not a lie. I do not like lies.” He stuck out his hand, “I am Askuwheteau. But if that is too much for your tongue, you may call me Adahy.”

Sam shook his hand and Dean reluctantly did the same. The man hummed, seemingly satisfied, “Follow me.”

The Winchesters followed in silence. They didn’t dare ask any questions until Adahy’s were answered. He led them further up the now near vertical climb, resulting in several slips and bruised knees.

Their path changed as they seemed to reach the peak of the ragged hill, suddenly evening off in a steady decline, down into further darkness. But in the darkness could be seen a light, soft and pale, a lantern.

A cabin sat between the thinning trees and a small stream, it's water gurgling amidst the ominous silence. It seemed almost peaceful, set in a tiny valley, secluded from the village beyond with the lantern swinging in the breeze, silently illuminating the lone wood lodging.

Adahy waved them onward, down the hill towards the decent sized lodge. It smelled strongly of pine with smoke curling up from the short chimney to blend into the cloudy sky. He unlocked the door with a click, the metal lock sliding out of place and hurried the Winchesters inside. They entered cautiously, staying alert for traps or oddities of any kind. But the only thing that caught their attention was the smell of sage and sweet fragrance. They blinked as they adjusted to the low light of the house, a few candles burning from the corners.

The old man shut the door with a hollow creak and shuffled around for something in the room. A moment later there was a spark and a fire sprung up from a stone circle in the middle of the cabin. It’s orange light revealed an array of curious decorations. From the high ceiling hung several different plants, strung out on a thin line. Accompanying them were a number of peculiar dreamcatchers, their feathers colorful and beads ornate. Among the threaded circles were sigils, the Winchesters realized, dozens of them.

“I see you recognize these,” Adahy murmured as he glanced at their surprised faces, setting down his gun and grunting as he sat down in a worn leather chair. They stared at him as he gestured vaguely to a pair of mats on the floor, covered only with a  few wood panels. The rest seemed to have rotted, leaving plain dirt under their feet. They sat down, facing the old man from across the flames, his eyes scrutinizing their every move.

“So…” he said at last, “We are safe now. You tell me what I want to know.”

Sam swallowed and nodded. Adahy paused before leaning forward to rest his arms on his ripped jeans. “You know these symbols. That means you know what is out there — what crawls in the night.”

“Yes,” Sam answered.

“Then you lie when you say you are lost. No one comes here unless they mean to. They must have a purpose.”

Sam nodded again, “We came searching for someone — someone who might know what happened to a person we found.”

Adahy hummed, blinking and leaning back in his seat. “Was it a young man?”

Sam looked at him in surprise, “Yes. His name was Blake Langermann. Do you know what happened to him?”

“Hm,” the old man looked down at the fire, watching the flames dance and spew their warmth into the room., “He came here looking for someone too. His wife.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, then back at Adahy. “His wife was here?”

“She was with child when she came here. I told her to turn back but she would not listen.”

“You talked with both of them? How?”

“I found them wandering, out in the wilderness, only but a week apart. She was looking for a healer. She had heard of a great magic in this land and had come to help her child… they would die when the time cam and doctors could do nothing for them.” His gaze wandered again, traveling far beyond the fire. He snapped his eyes back to them, suddenly sharp and focused. “The wife was naive, she was not saved — she was taken, along with her child. And the man, he was too late. You were foolish to come here. There is more than just magic here. There is a being who haunts this land, who drains it of life.”

Dean frowned, his eyes set on the man in front of him. “We know. We met her.”

“You met Stikini?” Adahy sat up, “Yet you are alive.”

“You know of her?”

Adahy hesitated, “Yes… I know everything about these lands.”

“You know what happened to those people then too?” Sam jutted in.

The man nodded, “I warned them. But they did not listen to the words a crazy old Indian.”

“Will you tell us?” Sam pleaded.

Adahy sighed and looked them over. “It is an old story. A tale of my people…”

Sam and Dean waited patiently, Adahy still scanning them skeptically. Finally Adahy nodded and stared once again into the fire. The smoke curled and rose in lazy loops to lick the ceiling, tasting the night air until it finally found its way to freedom.

“Stikini was the village shaman back when my people walked these lands, long before the white man. She was a master of her skill, but the power she yearned for could not be obtained through her practices. So she made a pact with a demon. The village did not know of her treachery until a boy found her one night talking with the evil spirit. She had excelled at the power the being had bestowed upon her and was asking for more guidance. The spirit gave her a book, filled with evil magic and unthinkable acts. The boy told the village, and the next day, he was found dead in the river.” Adahy sighed, a deep sadness falling over him.

“The village was outraged, so they found the witch and planned to burn her at the next sunrise — but she still had the book. They did not think to take her belongings. Stikini did not want to die, she knew where her spirit would go once she left this world. So she planned a way of escape... Only after it happened, did the survivors realize what she did. The black book had many spells on the twisting of the spirit, and in her desperation, she made a new spell. One none of my people had ever seen.

“When the dawn came and the witch was brought to the post, she screamed at us in warning. She said that if we did not release her, then we would be enslaved for all time. We did not listen, and she shouted a spell that shook the very earth at our feet. The sky darkened and everyone fell to their knees. Then she — she took our spirits…”

Adahy took a deep breath, shuddering as the words hung in the air. The brothers stared at him.

“Adahy…” Sam spoke softly, gentle and cautious, “How old are you?”

The old man met his gaze and swallowed, “Three hundred and seventy four…”

The Winchesters stared, looking at the man in front of them in amazement.

“H — How?” Sam asked.

“This land has magic. Her presence here has extended her life as well as mine. Time is not the same here.”

“But then — why isn’t anyone else here?”

Adahy shook his head, “After she stole our spirits, she made us her slaves. We were still alive, but she controlled us. We did what she wanted. After a while, some of us went mad and started killing each other. It was a battle to see who could survive and who would fall to the insanity. And the more that died, the more powerful she became. It took us some time, but we realized that the power she gained was from our souls. When my people died, their essence went straight to her. She was the soul keeper, and all of our fates would eventually be to rejoin her in mind and spirit. There was no great journey for us after death… And we dwindled, watching as our kin murdered each other.

“My mother… she protected me as much as she could — despite the hollowness of our being, she still had the instinct to protect her only son. But she too was killed… my father was no longer in his right mind. He was a mad man, frothing at the mouth like I had seen in the rest of the village… and when he had had his fill of blood, he too died, dropping where he stood… She told me one last thing before she passed. She made me promise to escape to my father’s lodge — to get away and survive this madness. And to find a way to stop it…”

He took a deep breath and rubbed his tired knees, “I’ve been trying to find a way to kill her ever since, and free the spirits of my friends and family… I have tried many times but — it is not possible.”

“How do you know?” Dean asked gruffly.

Adahy narrowed his eyes, “Because I have had centuries to come up with every possibility. One mortal cannot defeat her. Unless the souls are released, she is far more powerful than any of us.”

“What if…” Dean worried his lip, “What if you found another powerful being, one that could help us kill her.”

The old man shook his head, “The unnatural creatures of this land are not strong enough either. The wendigo, owl-women, skinwalkers — they are all a result of her foul magic. They are still under her command.”

Dean swallowed, “I mean… there were three of us, when we came here. Our friend, he might be able to take her out.”

Adahy stared at Dean in disbelief, “You claim to be friends with a supernatural creature?”

“Yes, he’s — he’s an angel.”

“A bright one?” Adahy frowned, but his eyes sparked with interest. “How is that possible? They have not walked among us since the old times.”

“Yeah well, out here in your little bubble you kinda missed a lot,” Dean met his gaze. Adahy pursed his lips and squinted, making his wrinkles pinch in folds.

“If you tell the truth, where is your friend?”

Sam glanced at Dean as his brother looked down into the fire. “The witch did something to him. She stuck him with some glowing dagger then he went super saiyan and attacked us.”

“You know of the dagger?” Adahy tilted his head curiously, eyes focused.

“What is it,” Dean demanded. Sam nudged him and gave him a warning look.

“Gah napeai, the soul blade,” Adahy stopped to eye them again, “It is an evil weapon, made from the energy of the spirits she has taken. I do not know all that it can do, but she has used it before. The demon she had summoned before, it came back. When it saw that her lifespan had outlasted the normal human, it came to collect what she had offered — her spirit. If it had been smarter it would have stayed away, but she refused to end her life. Instead, they fought, and she stabbed it with the blade....”

“At the time, white men had settled in the land, unaware of the danger. They had come to seek the New Frontier, as they called it… But when she stabbed it with the weapon, the demon suddenly became — different. It no longer dressed like a man, instead it was a great smoke, a huge cloud that swept through the village… it burned to the ground. She wanted more souls, so she took them with the help of the monster. It didn’t seem to have any control, it was hers. And it could travel far, she had it reach all the way to the great river before it finally fought back. One night I saw it, flying in the clouds when it fell to the earth, screaming. It was an unholy sound and it writhed for a while before it finally fell to ashes.”

A momentary look of horror fell over Dean’s face before her blinked and clenched his jaw, breathing hard. “How do we kill her?” Dean’s voice cut harshly through the room.

“Dean, he already said —”

“I don’t care. If there’s even a slight chance we can help Cas, we’re doing it!” Dean glared at Sam, “The bitch controls the blade. Take out the bitch, the blade won’t work.” He turned to stare at Adahy, “You couldn't do it alone. But now you've got us. How do we kill her?”

The old man took a deep breath, reading the hardness of Dean’s face and the determination of his gaze. He hummed again, “This being means a lot to you…”

Dean swallowed, “He is my friend.”

“Then you are a blessed man, to have a member of the holy host at your side and consider him more than just a guardian. There is more to him than what you speak… You truly offer your help?”

“Yes,” Dean said without hesitation.

The fire continued to crackle and burn as Adahy slowly stood. The Winchesters followed him as he made his way over to a crude box on the other side of the room. He lifted the lid and shuffled through stacks of bottles and strange ingredients before grabbing hold of a piece of paper. He raised the yellowing page and held it out to Dean.

“This is the book.” The brothers looked down at the paper and saw a drawing scratched across it. It was of a book, drawn in graphite with a dark cover and strange symbol marking its front: A half moon, cut through the middle with a straight line and small circle below. “This is the one she used for her magic, the one the demon gave her. All of her studies were done in her old dwelling, in a cave by the river. It would be there.”

“But why do we need this?” Dean asked, looking up from the sketch.

“Because that is how she came up with her spell work. There must be a way to make a counter curse as well. And it might have information for helping your friend. If you can bring it back to me, I might be able to read it and find a way to stop her.”

Dean nodded and pocketed the paper, “Okay. Where is it exactly?”

“In the village, where you see the church — if you look to the west, you will find a great cliff on the other side of the river, near the trees. You will find the cave on the banks of the river, where the moss is dead and the black roses grow. That is where it will be.”

Sam looked to his brother with an affirmative nod and then back to Adahy. “Thank you. We will help you free your tribe.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” the man mumbled, “The witch will still be after you and if your friend is with her, he will not have much choice — he will kill you.” Dean’s frown deepened. “And beware the Uktena. I heard many years ago that it guards the waters there. I’m not sure if it still lives but be aware… if it does —  it will know whether you speak the truth. Best not aggravate it.”

“The what now?” Dean blinked.

“The river beast. You did not think such power would be left unguarded?”

Dean sighed and smiled half-heartedly, “That’s nice...”

Sam rubbed at his eyes and combed a dirtied hand through his unkempt hair. “Is it okay if we rest for a while, before we go. It’s been quite a night already.”

Dean gave his brother a dissatisfied look but didn’t protest.

“Yes, I will wake you in three hours time. Then I will give you some supplies and you can go,” Adahy nodded and went to grab a pair of quilts in a stack in the corner.

Dean still glared at his brother. Sam just raised his eyebrows and pointed to the both of them, “We’re not doing anything until we rest.”

Dean pursed his lips, silent, before giving up and looking away, “Fine.”

The Winchesters settled down on the mats, quilts wrapped around them as they began to drift off. The fire filled the air with a soothing warmth and a soft crackle, dancing to its lullaby until it too began to fade.

_________________

 

It seemed like just yesterday that Castiel had been trapped in his own skin, senses foreign, muscles disobedient, like they weren’t his own — because that was the truth, they weren’t.

But he had grown used to this form, become sentimental of its familiarity, the way it moved and how his grace pushed and pulled its muscles; activating the myofibril then the muscles fibers that pulled his bones and therefore his limbs — a complex contraption, unique and essential to the human physique. Cas admired them for being able to control such a complicated mechanism, just one of millions they never realized they performed every second of their existence. Angels, they were made of simple wavelengths, particles that simply melded into what they needed to be, adjusting in frequency and amplitude as each angel saw fit.

Having a physical  body was complicated, and in more than one case, unpleasant. Cas had come to enjoy the small moments of humanity, but there were some limitations that he could not ignore. As much as the human body was strong it was also vulnerable. Skin was poor armor against the elements so humans created clothes, their eyes were blind in the dark so humans created fire then electricity — and it fascinated Cas what all humans were capable of despite their lack of natural protection. They were adaptable but more than that, they were emotional beings. Connection, companionship is how the human race had survived while so many others died.

But Cas wasn’t human, he may have been physically human briefly but he never truly could be. His mind worked differently, he saw things so much bigger, the extent of his existence was so outside of a human timeline that not even they could truly understand him. He was an alien, an outsider, but like a human, he’d chosen to adapt, to change. Sometimes Castiel believed that was the only reason he still lived. A tree that bows to the wind won’t break, a tree that stands stiff will snap. Cas pushed that line to the very edge.

In this instance, Cas was the tree standing against the wind. He knew eventually he would break, but standing strong was the lesser of two evils. The more time he bought, the greater chance Sam and Dean had of surviving.

He followed the witch silently, teeth grating and grace squirming in rebellion as the poison running through him bit deeper than human veins. Once again, his body was not his own, not really. With Lucifer, he had been tucked away, thrown into a dark corner of his mind to sit and forget about the world, but here… he was aware, he was conscious of each footstep as he followed the witch through a clearing of tall grass. His mind and body screamed, fighting like a rabid dog, but somehow the spell held strong, stronger than should be humanly possible.

As Sam and Dean had fled, he had tried to fight her, an internal war with another conscious that was slipping between the cracks of his mind and oozing its way in. It shouldn’t have been possible and yet it was.

**Don’t tire yourself out yet bright one, you have work to do.** Her voice echoed in his head, invasive and foul, a virus in his system.

**_Release me!_ ** He mentally bombarded her again, but once more his attack was blocked by an invisible wall, only letting his words sink through.

**I told you guardian, I will. Be patient.**

**_What do you want with me!?_ ** She refused to answer, silent as she stopped in the circle of dead grass, the trees around them a cage that blocked all but the moon.

“Kneel here,” she pointed with a gnarled finger. Cas snarled but unwillingly did as he was told, glaring at her with with all the hate he could muster. She merely looked back and smirked. “I’ll release you now,” she sing-songed, teasing.

“Then reverse the spell! How would I be any help to you when you already have enough of what you want? You were powerful enough to imbue the dagger with such magic, why bother with me?”

“Because,” she reached beneath her robes, drawing the dagger, “It is not enough. You may settle, but I will grow — and you will help me.”

“How?” Cas spat, “You seem capable all on your own.”

“My dear,” she slowly dragged the blade across her palm, letting the blood pool there, “You are much more efficient than I. I can only gather so many souls at a time, but you… you are an expert in the matter — isn’t that right?”

Cas swallowed and blinked up at her, “You can’t possibly know that… How do you know that?”

“I didn’t know before, it was a pleasant surprise when I saw. Remember guardian — I’m in your head now.” Cas felt the worming of her presence amidst his memories, a silent snake that had somehow passed beyond his notice. He attacked it violently, focusing all his energy on it until it was forced back. The witch just huffed.

“Well that will work, for now.” She began to walk in a circle, hand held high as blood dripped down into the dirt, forming a ring around him.

“What are you doing?” He asked, voice silent as confusion knitted his brow.

“Releasing you,” she replied, “From this cage of flesh you’ve been trapped in.” She tapped a finger against his temple. The realization dawned on Cas and he began to wrestle her spell desperately.

“You don’t know what you’re doing! You would die if you looked upon me! I’m safer as I am!”

The witch hummed, “Hm… I doubt I’d die bright one. If your knowledge is correct then its been awhile since you’ve had that power… As for safe, that is not my intention.”

“Then what do you want!?!” Cas yelled.

“You,” she smiled, “to do as I desire.”

Cas grimaced, trying to retort but his body wouldn’t listen. The witch raised her hand, dagger at her side, words pouring from her mouth like venom.

The angel felt it instantly. He jolted in surprise, his grace trying to cling to his vessel, fighting to keep itself contained. “No! Don’t!” He gritted as he crumbled from the spell, body shaking. His grace was expanding, trying to rip itself free and spread his broken wings to their full height.

“Too late,” he heard the witch chuckle, “You’ll be free soon.”

There was a pulse of energy, forcing its way into his being and dragging him out, away from the flesh he knew and back into something much older, something he hadn’t returned to for a long time. A ringing pierced the air and the world exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "Askuwheteau" - He keeps watch (Algonquian origin)  
> "Adahy" - Lives in the woods (Cherokee origin)


	4. The Hunters and the Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters set out to find the book and discover more than what they're prepared for.

**October 13th: 5:30 am**

 

The moon hadn’t seemed to have moved in the sky, the silver disk stuck in the same spot since they’d arrived. And the grey clouds masked the starlight, swallowing the twinkle in its shroud. The crunch of boots and fading echo of water could be heard but nothing more.

Dean looked down at the charm around his wrist, two arrows facing each other — to ward off evil spirits, Adahy said. They would have enough to worry about with the witch and Ca— Dean stopped himself. The point was they didn’t need monsters after them too.

Sam wore the same charm, the metal glinting in the glow of his flashlight. The path before them was simple; find the lair, get the book, come back. Then they could find a way to get Cas back.

Cas… what the hell had they walked into? Dean had just gotten him back from Lucifer — why did he always lose him? And from Adahy’s description of the soul blade, the effects were not good.

He tried not to think of it. And Cas — Cas wouldn’t kill them, he knew that. Whatever spells or possession had gotten in between them and their family, it never worked. This wasn’t any different. But how would Cas... change? He just prayed to whoever was listening that the angel was okay.

And this was Dean’s fault. He had asked Cas on this hunt. Sam was the smart one in keeping him out of it. But Dean couldn’t stop being selfish could he? The one time he let it slide and the universe laughed in his face. Typical.

He sighed as he followed behind Sam, once again moving through the trees. It was slow but they managed to trudge back down the hill and towards the west side of the village. When they finally broke through the treeline, they paused to observe their surroundings. The river ran below, curving around the empty houses and dried brush, the entire expanse cold and lifeless, dead — hopefully something they wouldn’t be.

“Dean?” Dean paused at the sound of Sam’s voice.

“Hm?” he hummed, frowning at his brother.

“Are you okay?”

Dean sighed, “Oh yeah I’m great.”

“It’s just — I know how much —”

“I thought we already had this conversation.”

Sam frowned and pursed his lips, “I just want you to be okay. And… I want you to be open to the possibility.”

“Possibility of what?”

“That Cas might not have any control right now. You heard what Adahy said, and if he’s got his mojo back that means —”

“No Sam. Enough. We’ll be fine,” Dean turned to keep walking.

“How do you know?” Dean stopped. He stared at his brother with an annoyed scowl.

“Because it’s Cas. And I trust him. Don’t you?”

“Of course I do. But that kind of magic is hard to resist, even for something like him. You saw what the dagger did to him.”

Dean bit back a growl, “He's not  _ something  _ — he's Cas. And why are you bringing this up now, huh? Like it’ll help.” He turned his back on Sam, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

Sam sighed, his eyes going soft as he stared at his brother’s shoulders. “That's not what I — Just be ready Dean, that’s all I’m saying.”

Dean closed his eyes, “I know… I’m sorry…”

Sam nodded, “It's okay. We’ll keep going. The river shouldn't be too hard to reach.”

Sam was wrong.

Despite the climb, the air was still frigid and cold. Half an hour later and the river’s roar could be heard running beside them. They followed it down to the cliffs where Adahy had indicated.

So far the travel had been quiet — no signs of the witch. But Dean knew better than to let down his guard. Every shadow jumped at him and his eyes darted around wildly whenever the wind whisped past his ears. He didn’t like this place. Not one bit.

“Hey…” Sam snapped his head around at the sound of Dean’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“So what’s this Uktena thing anyways? You know anything about it?”

“Um, well,” Sam hesitated as he carefully eyed the river. “If I remember correctly it’s some sort of giant snake.”

“Snake?” Dean stared at him wide eyed, “Like slither, big fangs, weird jaw thing snake?”

“Yeah, that kinda snake,” the corner of Sam’s mouth twitched at his brother’s statement. “But this one has horns — I think.”

“Oh, so a horny snake. Nice.”

This time Sam couldn’t help but smile. He nodded as they kept walking along the bank. “Yep, we’ve gotta deal with a horny snake.” Dean chuckled.

They kept smiling until Dean felt something crunch under his foot. “What the…” He looked down, expecting to see a crushed skull, but was pleasantly surprised — flattened against the pebbles was a soft, black, broken flower. “Black roses,” Dean looked up at his brother, “I think we’re close.”

Sam stared ahead. The cliffs rose up beside them, sharp and tall, with trees speckling the top as it continued upward toward the mountain beyond. His eyes followed the path of the river, strong and frothing with white water. Ahead of them, along the river’s edge, was a structure of layered stone. It mashed with the trees that hid the rest of the water’s path. A gaping hole sunk through its surface, delving deeper into the hillside.

As they neared it, the details around it became apparent. Strange etched white symbols marked the rock, and surrounding it, more black roses grew in twisted clusters, embedded in whatever cracks they could find. The gave off a sweet fragrance, their smell pleasant over the dank moisture.

Dean scanned the surrounding area, picking out the key landmarks Adahy had spoken of. “Pretty sure this is it.”

Sam stared into the dark, raising his flashlight. He paused, brow furrowing. “Dean, before we do this… do you think we can trust Adahy?”

Dean looked at him, a thoughtful gaze on his face. He took a moment, thinking. “You mean you think this is a trap?”

Sam nodded.

“Hm… Well, I don’t see why he would. He’s got nothing to gain from us if we die. And then why would he go through all the trouble of gearing us up and warning us about Monty Python if he wasn’t telling the truth?”

Sam nodded again, “I was just thinking — cause the witch, but… I didn’t feel like he was lying. And… he kinda reminds me of Bobby.”

Dean smiled softly at the memory of their surrogate father. “Yeah…  Old and cranky and carrying a shotgun. Sounds like Bobby.” He took a deep breath and pulled his gun out from his belt. He checked the bullets again — another gift from Adahy, as their gear had been left behind in the run. With everything loaded, they made their way into the cave.

As expected, it was dark. The sound of the roaring river was replaced with the drip drop of small pools. It soon became silent and from afar they could spot a green lantern swinging from a rope dangled somewhere in the ceiling. The sweet rose smell quickly dissipated as a waft of foul decay hit them.

Sam scrunched his nose, “Ugh, now I see why she needed the roses.”

“Freakin’ witches man. Them and their dead things. At least Rowena had some taste.”

The light grew until they could see enough for Sam to lower the flashlight. A woven mat was spread on the floor surrounded by piles and piles of books. They were opened and scattered in disorder with several clay and woven bowls crowding the already messy space, with strange ingredients stacked crudely on the rough walls.

The Winchesters avoided the perimeter of the cave, which was surprisingly small. They scanned the books, their pages filled with indistinguishable handwriting and drawings of god knew what.

“Well,” Dean scoured the volumes for any distinct black shape, “I guess we should start looking.”

He knelt down and tucked his gun away, instead dragging the paper sketch out of his pocket. He unfolded it and stared at the image. He hummed, hesitantly closing one of the open books to see its cover. “Nope,” he sighed. Sam crouched beside him and one by one they began scouring through the books.

After about the thirty fifth book, Dean rose to stretch his legs. “Maybe she hid it, it would kinda make sense.”

Sam craned his neck to look at his brother, “Yeah. How ‘bout you look at the walls and bowls and I’ll keep going here.”

Dean eyed the weird items on the walls and grimaced. “Okay…” He reluctantly leaned closer, carefully touching the rocks for possible cracks. He skimmed it until his finger stuck on a loose stone. “Aha!” He began to pry the stone out of its nook when he heard Sam behind him.

“Dean.” Sam sounded urgent but Dean almost had it out.

“What?” Dean continued to pick at the stone.

“The water…”

“What about the water?”

“Didn’t you hear the splash?”

“No what are you —”

“— Dean!!”

There was a hiss as water exploded from behind them followed by a heavy thud. Dean shot up, spun around — and immediately fell back against the wall.

Two huge red orbs glared at him, their gaze lidless and unnerving, and right below them, a huge set of fangs. That was definitely a giant fucking snake.

Dean gulped as it’s snout came dangerously close to his face, the crystalline scales dripping water onto the floor. His heart raced as it stared, large horns curling up to brush the ceiling, a strange crimson stone set in the middle of its forehead. He didn’t dare move.

It finally tilted its head, it’s body shifting to settle around the cavern. Dean heard Sam cry out and glanced to his left to see his brother stuck on the floor, struggling under the weight of a massive coil.

A hiss quickly returned his attention forward and he stiffened against the cold stone at his back. He white knuckled the rock, the monster sliding even closer. It closed its jaws, and a long forked tongue flicked out from the slit of its mouth.

“Oh — ew,” Dean scrunched his eyes as he felt the tongue dart millimeters from his face. When it finally stopped, he carefully opened one eye.

It opened its jaws again. “Why are you here?” The hiss echoed about the cavern, reverberating off the walls.

He looked up in surprise at the great snake. The weight of its gaze made him feel like a mouse. But he had to remember what Adahy told him… honesty. He must tell the truth.

“We — we’re here for the book.”

The eyes narrowed and Dean held his breath as he waited.

“The witch’sss book. And why do  _ you _ need such a thing?”

“We need the information to help our friend — and the people who lived here… Adahy sent us.”

“Hmm,” the snake hummed, “I thought I smelled him on you.” The creature slithered back, leaving room between them. Dean let himself breathe again.

“You — you know him?”

“He was a good friend in life — before her wretched curse. I was human onccce. But that was long ago.”

“Oh,” Dean managed to squeak.

“He isss a good man. I assume he sent you here to stop this madness.”

Dean nodded vigorously, “Yes. Yes, me and my brother.” He glanced to his left again. The snake followed his gaze to a struggling Sam and slowly moved itself off of him. Sam gasped as the weight was lifted and scrambled to his feet. His brother stared back at the creature, arms raised in an unsure display of defense. The creature ignored him and returned to Dean. “The book… I have been guarding it for many years, as was her instructions.”

“You work with her?” Dean asked, dread filling his stomach as the creature opened and closed its great maw.

“With? No foolish one, she has bound me to this place,” The snake growled. “I cannot leave — as with Adahy. If we wander, we die. That is how her magic works.”

“So you can’t escape? You can’t fight her?”

“No,” It said simply, “She has our soulsss.”

Dean swallowed, eyeing the large white fangs, “But if you’re protecting the book… then why are we still alive?”

It tilted its head again, its tongue flicking in and out. “Her hold is strong, but not unbreakable. And it has weakened. Her attention is focused elsewhere…” It’s red eyes blazed against the green glow. “I can… control it, if I am incentivized. You are some of the lucky few. You peaked my interest.”

Dean licked his lips nervously, “And how was that?”

“You told the truth. You cannot lie to me. Others tried, but as you see, none of them are here.”

Dean glanced around before returning to the snake, “Others came for the book?”

“No, not for the book. For power, I could see it in their eyes.” Its red orbs flared dangerously. “But you are true of heart and your mission is just — and can help free me. I wish for you to succeed.”

“Then you will let us take it?” Sam spoke up for the first time, his eyes darting between Dean and the creature. The snake twisted to loom over both of them, coiling itself to rest in lazy loops on the floor.

“Yesss…” Its gaze narrowed, “If you promise to free me of this curse — kill the filthy witch. Vengeance is all I want of her. Make her suffer!” It flashed its fangs and shook with a loud hiss.

“We promise,” Dean spoke with surprising certainty.

It turned it piercing gaze to Dean, its mass circling slowly to lean closer. “Do you really?” It lowered its head until it was eye to eye with him. Dean could only nod wordlessly as its eyes burned into him. The red glow of its gaze matched the crystal upon its head, a mesmerizing triad of ruby light. Dean couldn’t help but stare at it, tempted to go closer.

“Dean.” Dean heard Sam call from beside him and he blinked. The snake stared only a second longer before slowly rearing back.

“You do not lie…” It said, eyes dimming. “Well, then I sssuppose I will let you take it.” It nodded to the stone behind Dean.

Dean hesitated but cautiously returned to the loose rock and pulled it until it finally slid out of its socket. Sure enough, a black book lay tucked in the small crevice. Dean dragged it from its hiding spot and examined the cover. The peculiar symbol in Adahy’s sketch lay etched in gold on the black leather cover. He carefully leafed through the pages, the writing matching the other books that lay chaotically strewn about the cave.

“Now we finally have a chance to be free…” The snake gave a great sigh and relaxed its coils. “But I have one question.” Sam and Dean looked up expectantly. “Who isss this friend?”

“Well…” Sam began, “He isn’t… human, like us. He’s a —”

“Bright one…” Its eyes sparked with interest. “So she really has found a new guardian.”

Sam nodded, “We need him back, and this book might help.”

“Hm… her spell will be hard to break, and if her focus is on him… you must be careful. He may not be your friend for long.”

Sam and Dean exchanged worried looks as the snake began to recoil.

“But I wish you luck. And when you return to Adahy, tell him an old friend sends his regardss. And tell him Chu’a is grateful for all he has done.”

“We will,” Sam bowed his head and Dean did the same. “Thank you for your kindness.”

The snake chuckled, “Oh do not mistake this for kindness. It is a necessity, but think what you will.” It paused, eyeing them both with an intense gaze. “Go, leave — before her magic returns.” Its coils suddenly sprung to life, curling around to rearrange themselves behind its horned head. “Do not attempt to return here. I may not be so peacefully inclined should we meet again.”

It looked to each of them, nodding briefly before its massive bulk began to writhe. It slithered away from the green light, moving faster than seemed possible back towards the small pools waiting in the dark. There was barely a splash as it disappeared, sliding into the blackwater until its length was submerged, with only a wet trail to prove its existence.

The Winchesters stood in shocked silence, each breathing a sweet sigh of relief. Dean held the book triumphantly in his hand. He looked down at it, a small smirk spreading across his face. He looked to Sam and held up the book. “That coulda been a hell of a lot worse.”

Sam nodded, staring at the book in wonder. “Yeah. We could’ve been eaten by a horny snake.”

Dean’s smile widened briefly before returning to its stony expression. “We should go, before it has a chance to change its mind.”

 

_____________________

 

**October 13th: 7:30 am**

 

Dean knew it was early morning. Despite the stress, he knew he could trust his body to tell time. It’s not like he’d never been through similar conditions before. With the book tucked in his jacket, him and Sam had put themselves as far away from the cave as possible, their pace nearly at a run as they attempted to retrace their footsteps in the dark.

But Dean felt lost. Normally he had a good sense of direction, but now it seemed to fail him.

It was dark, but it was morning. Where was the sun? Adahy’s words came to mind.  _ Time is not the same here.  _ Was it always night in this place?

The woods all seemed the same. Each tree a crude copy of the other. The flashlight was starting to flicker. They’d need new batteries soon, and they needed to get back before that happened. Dean tried to scour for any telltale trail of smoke above the trees, but none could be seen. They should’ve thought of this before they left.

When the brothers finally reached a clearing void of trees, they stopped to catch their breaths. Sam tucked away the flashlight as the moonlight was bright enough. They looked out and saw that they were back on the hillside overlooking the village. But they were higher up than they’d thought.

“We’re gonna have to go back down again,” Dean huffed in annoyance.

“Yes,” Sam panted, “But at least we know where we are.”

Dean looked behind them and down at the descending landscape. Cacti grew in groves where the trees failed to take root. To their right, a couple hundred yards away, was a rock formation similar to the one by the river, but without the strange writing and roses.

Dean sighed and tapped his brother’s shoulder, pointing to the rocks. “We can stop there a couple minutes, before we head back down. And maybe snack on something before we go.”

“Snack on what?” Sam frowned.

“And I thought you were the college kid,” Dean muttered, walking over to a group of cacti, their spiked oval pads sitting low to the ground. He pulled out the knife that he always kept in his boot and carefully held one of the red fruits growing between his fingers. He sawed it off and peeled the prickly skin before examining it. He nodded in satisfaction. “Here,” Dean tossed the small bulb to Sam, “Try it.”

Sam looked at him skeptically. Dean sighed, “It’s safe, just eat it you dork.” Sam tentatively took a bite and a looked up in surprise.

“It’s sweet… Where the hell did you learn this?”

“I read. And hey, you never know when you’ll get stuck in a survival situation.”

“You watched Bear Grills again didn’t you?” Sam smirked.

“Maybe,” Dean began to cut off another fruit, “And I read.”

They sat amongst the rocks as they munched on the small red plants. It wasn’t up to their usual taste but it was better than nothing.

After a few minutes, Sam began to doze as the silence lulled his tired mind. Dean let him, and although he was tempted to join, he refused. Instead he briefly examined the small cave behind them, it was not deep enough to hide any monsters. So he sat, relaxed as much as he could, and stared out at the night.

The silver disk was still there, in the same solitary spot.

As the minutes ticked past and his mind wandered, Dean continued to stare at the moon. It seemed so lonely, up there in the sky, he thought.  Although the stars were forever by its side, it didn’t look like it belonged. It was so different from the stars, so much bigger and more beautiful. Dean picked out the man’s face on the moon’s surface. He looked sad.

Dean felt a drop of sorrow, even though he knew there was no reason to. He tried not to think of it. But the longer he sat, the stronger it became. He shouldn’t be sad, so why was he?

He felt a tug at his heart, a longing. It was gentle, but then it grew, making him delirious and confused. Dean felt it again, harder this time. He blinked and looked around. Nothing disturbed the land or the sound of Sam’s soft breathing. Dean stood up, not really knowing what he was doing. He felt like he needed to — he needed to go… somewhere. The soft pull was calling him, calm and soothing. He needed it.

His feet led him along, up the hill and back into the trees. He didn’t know why. His brain was fuzzy, his mind slow and lazy. But he could feel a buzz, a calling. It was for him, he had to answer.

He stopped when he reached a large circle of trees, their trunks stretching high into the sky. The ground within flowed out in a sea of green, the grass healthier and taller than he thought possible in the desert. It was peaceful.

A low hum radiated throughout the clearing, a satisfying white noise, breaking the endless silence that plagued the land. Dean had a fleeting thought that he should turn back, but the hum was so comforting and familiar. He walked towards it.

It grew until the sound became loud, incomprehensible whispers that brushed against his consciousness and drew him in. He knew this voice, he knew it deep in his bones, but he couldn’t put his finger on it... 

He stopped. The dark expanse in front of him seemed thicker now, great and ominous like a yawning black hole. There was something there, he could feel it. Maybe if he reached out…

The darkness moved. The whispers fluctuating like a great sigh and the frequency grew like the buzzing of bees.

Dean stood frozen, his hand almost touching that dense black. But then he looked up.

The black was not black anymore.

A soft blue spilled across the clearing, flooding it with a sharp glow. Dean could not move. He stood, mouth agape and felt himself tremble. Two great circles stared down at him, two ginormous pools of light — and they were focused on him.

Dean stared back into them, and it seemed familiar — like something he'd done a million times before. But he was afraid, and his mind was clouded. His consciousness was caught between the instinct to freeze or flee. And ultimately, the one more likely of survival won.

Dean nearly fell backwards as he tripped over his feet, fear guiding him as he flew in the opposite direction, back through the trees, away from whatever that thing was. His mind was filled with a continuous line of  _ Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!  _ as he ran back to Sam.

Sam awoke and jumped in surprised as he saw his brother rip through the trees and towards him, shouting.

“Get in the fucking cave!” Dean yelled and grabbed his brother roughly by the arm, dragging him behind him. He all but shoved Sam further into the space, forcing them further and further back until no light shone on them.

Dean's breathing was loud, he clutched at the edges of the rock they had decided to hide behind, cutting into his fingers. He waited.

“Dean, what the hell —”

“Shut up!!” Dean whispered furiously. “Can't you hear it?!”

“Hear what—?”

“Shhh!!” Dean clamped a hand over Sam’s mouth. The hum was growing again, the whispers following close behind. And he could still feel the pull, the calling, calling, calling… Sam just stared at him in utter confusion — until something  _ big _ moved outside.

They both snapped their heads around in time to see a great claw-like hand land on the rock Sam had been sleeping on, ginormous and ethereal. They stood transfixed as it glowed, nearly white, the color brightening and darkening like the waves of the sea. It's form was semi-corporeal, moving and fluctuating, weaved by silky threads of light.

They stared, until it moved, taking a step further into the night and passed their field of view. It's presence lingered, strong but soft like wind current. It's smelled of rain and thunder, earth and metal, comforting and terrifying all at once.

They waited until it could no longer be felt before daring to look at each other. Sam looked utterly shocked, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

“Wh—what was that?” He finally managed to say. Dean just shook his head, eyes wide.

Then he felt it — a tingling in the back of his brain, a zing as something pushed against his consciousness. Dean gripped the rock with white knuckles. It pushed again, attempting to share the space in his mind and Dean felt himself falling over.

“Dean. Dean!” Sam called quietly, quickly glancing back towards the entrance.

Dean moaned and shut his eyes as his head began to pound. He could feel it moving in and he could do little to fight it.

“Stop, please…” he gritted between his teeth, and it seemed to listen. He gasped as the pressure lessened, receding to only the furthest parts of his mind.

“Dean! What's wrong? Talk to me!”

Dean shook his head, eyes still tightly closed. Then it grew again, softer but still overwhelmingly strong.

**_Stop fighting, you're making it worse._ **

The voice rang through Dean's skull, aggravating the pain but —

“Cas?!” Dean suddenly blinked, clutching at his brother's arm to steady himself.

**_Yes. I'm sorry, this is the only way I can speak to you. You need to —_ **

“Where the hell are you? We — we’re trying to find you but… Cas, there's something here. I don't know what…”

Cas paused, Dean felt his presence lessen slightly, uncertain.

“Cas?” He called.

The angel hesitated.  **_You need to leave. When you're close it's easier to find you. Dean I_ ** **mustn't** **_find you! And don't look for me._ **

“Wait, but if you're— where are you?”

The angel paused again.  **_Leave Dean. Run, now!_ **

“But Cas— !”

**_GO!_ **

And then his presence was gone, ripped out like a splinter.

Dean panted in shock, a dizziness now setting in as confusion clouded his mind — so many questions flooding over him. What had happened? What had gotten into him? Why had he gone off!? What was that thing, and Cas...

“Cas! CAS?!” He shouted again.

Sam frantically tried to shush him as Dean struggled to get up.

“CASTIEL!!”

Sam finally put a hand over his mouth and dragged him back inside. “Dean shut up!! What about Cas?!”

“You — you couldn’t hear him?” Dean asked when Sam finally removed his hand. His brother shook his head, brow furrowed.

“He — he was here. He talked to me — he was close, we could’ve —”

“What did he tell you?” Sam cut him off, “I heard you but not him.”

“He — He…” Dean tried to organize his buzzing mind. “He told me to leave. That it’s easier to find me when I’m closer. But if he’s close we could —”

“Dean. Stop and think for a minute.” Sam placed a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“But Cas —”

“What if it’s the witch Dean. She has Cas. If he’s here that means she is too. He warned us — or you… wait why were you even in the forest?”

Dean swallowed and he tried to recall the almost surreal memories. “I don’t know. I was just sitting, and then I felt this — thing. And I had to follow it, I don’t know why. But I knew it Sam, it was calling me.”

Sam wore a worried frown as he stared at his brother. They sat in silence before Sam finally took a deep breath, “I think we should listen to him. We need to go… before Cas comes back.”

“What?” Dean looked up wide eyed.

“That’s the only logical conclusion Dean.  _ That  _ was Cas.”

“Wait, what?” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “But how — if it was him, then shouldn’t we be toast right now. Or me, at least.”

“I don’t know Dean. But whatever he did to you… How ‘bout I lead from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because if he can control you or whatever, then I don’t know if I can trust your judgement.”

“It’s CAS!”

“Who’s under a spell!”

Dean clenched his jaw and refused to look his brother in the eye. “I — I don’t feel it now…”

Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. “We need to find Adahy.”

Dean licked his dry lips and looked back out at the moon. The presence — Cas, was gone. The strange pull seemed to have snapped, leaving him with a hanging thread of the connection. What even the fucking hell was that? He’d never felt anything like this before. It was new, but there was a part of it he had recognized.

The softness of the touch, so welcoming and gentle, as delicate as it was afraid. Sadness. Dean remembered now. It had felt sad.  _ Cas  _ had felt sad.

Anger boiled up inside him, his hatred for the witch rekindling. She had forced him to do  whatever the hell that was. And Cas had tried to help… Cas didn’t want this.

Memory of the soft blue spilled back into his mind. Two lights looking down on him… that was Cas. The shock of it helped to clear his head. Dean dragged up anything else he could remember to try and build an image of what Cas really was, but it was all still too blurry — and he had run away. Dean stopped. He felt the guilt well up in his gut like a fountain as he recalled his cowardice. He had been afraid of Cas. How could he? How could he not have realized — Dean rested his face ashamedly in his hands.

“What?” Sam asked softly.

“I ran away… I ran away from him. He was right there and I was too blind to see it.”

“Dean, it was probably for the best. What if he or the witch caught you?”

“No Sam… I was scared of him.”

Sam sighed, “Hey. You know in the Bible, almost everyone who saw an angel nearly shit themselves. At least you didn’t.” Dean didn’t look up and Sam patted him on the back as he checked over his shoulder. “Okay, we really need to go before they come back. We can talk later.” Sam dragged Dean to his feet and waited until he rebalanced himself.

Dean shook his head to clear the rest of the vertigo, his focus and control still fading in and out. “Come on,” Sam whispered in his ear as he pushed them out of the cave. They scanned the area before daring to step out, keeping alert for any sign of a disturbance. But once again, it was quiet.

“Sam, look.” Dean pointed to a trail of green traveling down the hill. The sudden growth rose in a single, lucious patch amongst the powdered dirt.

“Like Anna…” Sam breathed out, “Grace.” He blinked and shook himself, instead looking down towards the forest. “I think we should stay near the edge. That way we can know where we are.” Dean nodded.

Sam took one last look around before dashing towards the edge of the trees, Dean following close behind. From there they moved silently down the hillside, backtracking just beyond the reach of the dark branches stalking their trail.

Sam kept the flashlight off, not wanting to risk being spotted. Dean eyed the forest with a distrustful glare. The shock that had rattled his mind and body was slowly beginning to fade, but he still felt on edge.

They passed along in silence, finally beginning to recognize the area. As they made their way down, their unease began to lessen, until they finally re-entered the forest to reach the hill they had climbed up before to Adahy’s.

They eyed the steep incline with reluctance, before beginning their ascent. Once they reached the top, they stopped to catch their breath. Dean bent over, hands on his knees as he took slow, deep breaths. He glanced to his left to view the infinite expanse of dense trees and stopped.

He frowned and shook himself. His head was bothering him again, but it could just be his weariness. He attempted to look away but a heavy feeling in his chest rooted him to the spot.

Dean froze, his eyes widening as he began to hear again the soft voice in his ear. “Sam!” He called frantically and as quietly as possible. He said nothing but pointed in the direction of interest. The harder he looked, the better he could see it. A black shroud melded within the outline of the trees, nearly invisible, the form flitting in and out as it glided along.

Sam nudged him and Dean turned to see his confused expression. But Dean’s face was all Sam needed to see to get the message. Sam went pale and snuck a glance in the silhouette's direction. His mouth dropped open.

“You can see him?” Dean mouthed. Sam nodded quickly and swallowed.

The whispering grew louder, the presence reaching out to reconnect the broken bond of consciousness. Dean went rigid and he closed his eyes and breathed slowly, attempting to resist it.

But this was Cas.

The one second of doubt was all it took for Dean to feel himself tugged downward, but Sam caught him by the shoulder. Dean was suddenly breathing hard as he stared forward, towards the black, pitch black and —  _ oh fuck! _

The darkness flickered white before dimming again, and in it Dean had time to see those two pools staring at him once more. The presence suddenly snapped into place and Dean only heard one word.

**_Run._ **

“Fuck! Sam, run!” Dean didn’t hesitate as he grabbed Sam and dragged them both sprinting down the hill as fast as they could without falling.

A great whoosh sent up a cloud where they had been and Dean felt the energy buzzing on his skin. He didn’t need to look back to know that Cas was right behind them, he could practically see the grace spilling down and sneaking into his peripheral vision.

They could see the cabin now, sitting by the river. Dean hoped Adahy had some angel warding up.

The ground finally evened out and the brothers sprinted faster towards the wood lodge. They needed to get in there now! There was a roaring, like a wave threatening to crash down on them.

“ADAHY!” Dean yelled, “ADAHY, OPEN THE DOOR!” He hoped the old man could hear him. His calves were on fire and threads of energy were threatening to curl over his back. To their brief relief, the door opened and Adahy froze, staring wide eyed at what was behind them.

A ringing now pierced Dean’s ears and he struggled not to throw his hands over them. Instead he gritted his teeth and pushed forward. The heat was nearly overwhelming, dissolving the feeling in his limbs. The cabin grew closer, as did the ringing behind them. Dean could feel a wetness dripping down his cheeks and he knew his ears were bleeding but he couldn’t stop.

Adahy finally moved to give them room and Sam and Dean leapt through the doorway, letting their feet meet the ground gracelessly and rolled onto the dirt floor. Adahy slammed the door shut as the last of them tumbled in.

A crash shook the frame of the house, raining dust and splinters from the roof. A high pitched cry rang through the air, and all of them knelt to cover their ears. A great flap of wings sounded outside the cabin, pausing before picking up in speed. There was a pause and a blue glow spread to bleed through the cracks of the house. One last whoosh and then the angel was gone.

They all lay on the floor, breathing heavily and trying to recover. They lay there for several minutes and Dean clutched at his head, now pounding from the repeated mind fuckery.

Adahy finally stood up, wiping sweat from his brow as he examined the boys. He took a deep breath, leaning against the side of the house. “So… that is your friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Chu'a - snake (Hopi origin)  
> More information on Uktena - http://www.native-languages.org/morelegends/uktena.htm  
> 
> 
> And the cactus I mentioned briefly is the prickly pear cactus... i totally did not spend an hour researching cactus
> 
> And I want to say thank you to everyone who's been sticking with and enjoying the story so far :) I might try and sketch some art for some chapters if I can. I'll see what I can squeeze in ;) Thank you guys!


	5. The Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The book retrieved, the brothers and Adahy can finally get some intel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a long chapter... might be one of the longest lol, so hunker down, grab some tea and hopefully enjoy :)

The land stretched out below him, the rocks and trees scattered in abundance; tiny, microscopic and inconsequential. He could see every branch, every bird, every atom. He could map every wind current and curve of the river, like he had the millions of years before. But there was one thing he could not see, one thing he refused to see; the Winchesters.

Cas revelled in the feeling of flying, his wings whole and strong, lifting him up as high as he wished. At first he had rejoiced, he could fly again! But he knew the reason why, and he hated it.

The witch’s presence clung to him, sticking like a parasite and infecting him with her foul words. He could sense the souls within her, had seen them the second she had stepped out of the shadows. He could feel their pleas, their suffering, as she slowly fed off their infinite energy.

But what truly disgusted him was what she was doing to  _ him. _ He knew what it was like to feed off of souls, and he wished to never be reminded again, but she hadn’t given him a choice.

His wings were renewed, the feathers had regrown, he was stronger! — but not of his own will. She had taken the soul energy, pouring it into his grace…

First she had violated him, and now this.

**_I will not hurt them._ ** Castiel let his voice ring through his grace and to the thorn in his side.

A chuckle was what he heard in return.  **Yes, yes you will.**

He felt her command cut through him, battling his will over the control of his form.

**_No!_ ** His wrath pooled within him.  **_If you do not free me, I will throw your soul into the abyss!_ **

**You will not, you will do as I say.**

**_I WILL NOT HURT THEM!_ **

The witch paused, and he could see the way her thoughts swirled in a sickening spiral.  **But you already did…**

Cas circled the clouds in frustration, the witch chaining him to the spot.  **_I didn’t hurt Dean._ **

**But you scared him. He fears you. Did you not see?**

Cas remembered clearly, and he hated it.

**_You made me do it. You made me call to him!_ **

**He ran away. Do you think he can look at you now, and accept you as you really are?**

**_All humans are afraid of change. Dean is no different. He did not know. It is only natural of him._ **

**He will not want you. Not after what you do to him.**

His grace burned and writhed, fighting against the poison swimming in it.

**_Why them? Why not let them go?_ **

**They tether you here. Is that not so? Without them, what have you here?**

Castiel refused to answer, his anger building as she persisted.  **_Then why Dean? Why choose him?_ **

The witch laughed, her amusement clashing with Cas’s confusion.   **Your bond with him is strong, but once you break him, they'll be nothing in my way from having you completely.** She prodded at his mind, trying to scrape at his memories. He lashed out, singeing her intruding touch. He had learned from last time.

She hissed, **Oh poor angel, do you not know why he must die? Do you not know what I see in your vast memory?**

Castiel fought again, shaking her hold and blasting her infested hook with burning anger, but still her presence clung. He roared in frustration.

**I guess not… Don’t worry guardian, you will.**

 

_________________

 

**October 13th: 9:00 am**

 

Dean sat on the outstretched mat, gazing into the fire as he held a cup of warm tea in his hands. He sipped it quietly, letting the warmth soothe the soreness of his mind. It still throbbed, causing him to grimace now and again. Sam and Adahy stood beside him, whispering, keeping their words quiet for which he was grateful. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet smell, letting his eyes rest while his thoughts buzzed.

He had an inkling of what had happened, a notion of why, but it was all still new. He could still feel the wisp of a connection, a dormant echo that floated across the surface of his memory. It was soft and fragile, but so close he could almost grasp it.

“Dean.” A hand shook his shoulder and Dean’s eyes blinked open. Sam was scanning his face with a furrowed brow.

“Hey Sam,” he replied quietly.

“You good to talk?” His brother gave him comforting pat.

Dean sighed and craned his head to see Adahy standing behind Sam, his sharp eyes examining him. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he gave Sam a reassuring smile. He stood slowly, leaving the cup beside him.

“Sam has already told me what happened,” Adahy crossed his arms, never taking his eyes off of Dean. “But first, may I see the book?”

Dean frowned before remembering and pulling the book out from inside his jacket. The old man’s gaze wandered down to the black cover, widening as he took the book from Dean’s hands. He took a deep breath, gingerly opening the pages, scanning its contents until he found what he was looking for. He looked up to the Winchesters. “You did it,” a small smile spread across his crinkled face, “Here it is — about the souls, after all this time.” He stared at the brothers in amazement. “Thank you.”

They both nodded at him. “You’re welcome,” Dean said, “And Chu’a sends his thanks.”

Adahy took a sharp intake of air. “Chu’a? When — how do you know of him?”

Dean and Sam glanced at each other before Sam cleared his throat, “The snake — the Uktena, it said it knew you. It — he said the witch had cursed him to watch over the book.”

Adahy’s eyes sparked with happiness before his face fell. “It is good to know that he is alive, the last time I saw him was before I fled to these hills. I thought him dead, after all these years… but it seems the witch took advantage of his thirst for vengeance. I knew of the Uktena and the curse on it but… I never knew it was...” He looked down at the book sadly. “He was a good friend… at least he still has his memories. Others were not so lucky.” The brothers stood in solemn silence.

“Well, he helped us — helped you,” Dean said  quietly, “That won’t be forgotten.”

Adahy sighed and set the book down on his chair, “Thank you… but I cannot dwell on the past now. There’s more pressing matters. Like your bond with this being.”

“Okay...” Dean frowned.

“The angel entered your mind and not your brother’s. He was able to communicate with you.”

“And totally Obi Wan’d you,” Sam added.

Dean felt a ping in his brain, like just the mention of the connection could rekindle its flame. He rubbed at his temple, quickly letting his hand drop when he noticed Sam and Adahy’s worried looks. “I’m fine,” he insisted, “I really am.”

Sam crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. “Really? Cause you’ve been out of it since we got back.”

“Well yeah,” Dean huffed, “We just escaped being fried with angel mojo and I just got mindfucked. So yes, I’m a little out of it.” Dean dragged a hand through his tousled hair.

“You can still feel it, can’t you. The connection?” Adahy walked forward to stand in front of the fire. 

Dean swallowed, glancing between the old man and Sam. “Yes, I can feel it.” Adahy continued to scrutinize him.

“I have no experience with spirit bonds, but I have heard of them before. You have not told me much of your friend, but you must be very close.”

Dean clenched his fists as he remembered the first sad touch of Cas’s presence. “He’s my best friend. But he didn’t want to do this, I could tell.”

“She could force him to use this connection. It must be strong for her to see it as a tool. What exactly is he to you?”

Dean felt a twinge of annoyance, “I’ve known the guy for almost a decade, alright. But he’s never mentioned anything like this; this — this bond or whatever. I don’t even know what the hell is going on man. This is some freaky shit, even for me.”

“Actually, he did mention it, Dean,” Sam shot a glance at his brother. “He just didn’t want to bother you with it.”

Dean eyed Sam with confusion until he finally realized what his brother was referring to, remembering the brief conversation when Sam had been soulless. “Dude, that was a long time ago.”

“Not for Cas. Profound bond, remember? Maybe he meant that literally. The only reason he’s using it now is because he has no choice. He didn’t want to use it then Dean, because you didn’t want to acknowledge it — and he was respecting that.”

Dean stared at his brother, mouth opening and closing as he tried to speak. “But — why me? You’re his friend too.”

“Dean,” Sam looked down at his feet with a small smirk and shook his head, “Cas  _ is  _ my best friend, but everyone knows you and Cas are… different.” Dean glared at Sam, jaw clenched, daring him to continue.

“If I may,” Adahy intruded, “Spirit bonds are usually formed by beings who have touched each other's spirits…” Adahy gave Dean a questioning look. “They linger only as long as the two continue to hold them, and grow stronger the longer they last.”

“Well, that would make sense,” Sam nodded. “Cas saved you long before me and —”

“— Okay,” Dean cut him off, earning him a glare and a confused look from Adahy, “So me and Cas have this psychic link or something. How does that affect us — me?”

Adahy paused, thinking. “You need to be careful. Stikini will use this against you and your friend. You will have to determine whether it is her or him. And if you feel the call… you must resist. They can see you if you make the link.”

“Great,” Dean muttered, glaring into the fire. “But…” his expression softened, “Does this mean I can — feel Cas too? Does the connection go both ways?”

The old man narrowed his eyes, “Possibly. I would not know. Do you think you can?”

Dean focused on the thread dangling in his mind, still drifting along his string of conscious. He tried to concentrate on it, reaching out to touch it. The remnant grew as he neared, the soothing strand of grace calming him. But Dean quickly retracted before he could touch it.

“Actually, yeah.” Dean met the man’s eyes.  Both Adahy and Sam looked at him in surprise. “I — I think I can.”

“So you can figure out where him and the witch are?” Sam asked with renewed interest.

“Maybe?”

“But then she will also know where you are,” Adahy spoke up. Then he frowned, glancing around the room, “And now, she knows where I live.” The realization slowly dawned on the Winchesters, and they both felt a pang of guilt. “I have managed to keep this place a secret... but now it is no longer safe. These wards will only last for so long.”

“Adahy, we’re sorry,” Sam said, “We didn’t know we would lead her here.”

“I forgive you… and besides, it is time I stopped hiding.” Adahy took a long look around the old room. “I am finally able to fight the witch with your help. I should do my best. I will sit and wait no longer.” Adahy sighed, “But now we have the book, and I can finally find her spell and hopefully reverse it.”

“Can you read it?” Dean asked. Adahy picked up the book and flipped open the cover. He scanned the yellow pages. “Yes,” he smiled softly, “I haven’t read anything in my native tongue in a long time, but I should remember.” The pages crinkled as he flipped through the book, his smile slipping. “These are very dark spells. I’ll need time to read through them.”

Sam nodded, “Then we’ll wait. I’m sure Dean needs the rest.” Dean glared at Sam, but his brother only returned his look with concern.

“Good, then sit. Regain your strength,” Adahy turned to his old chair.

Sam obeyed and sat down on the mat next to Dean’s. Dean reluctantly followed and returned to sipping his drink. The fire crackled, warm and comforting. He closed his eyes.

The orange flickered beneath his lids, swimming across his vision. Eventually the orange changed, cooling into swirls of hypnotic blue. No, not swirls, circles, two of them.

“Dean.” Dean’s eyes fluttered open as an elbow poked his side. He turned and saw Sam frowning at him. “It’s been ten minutes, you haven’t moved.” Dean tilted his head, then looked down at his now cold drink.

“Oh,” he swirled the drink lazily.

“So… how bad is it,” Sam sighed, “Like, hangover bad?” He cracked a smile and Dean huffed.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “But more like… it fades, but flares up whenever I think about it. If I ignore it then it’s… better.”

“But it still hurts.”

“Mhm,” Dean hummed, “But the pain… I don’t know. It feels like it shouldn’t be there. It doesn’t feel like…”

“Cas,” Sam finished with a nod, “You said yourself it was probably the witch.”

“Yup, that fucking —” Dean stopped, staring at his cup, gripping it harder. “I’m gonna kill her. I'm gonna rip her throat out if she touches a single feather on his stupid ass.”

Sam patted him on the shoulder, “We both will. I promise.”

 

_________________

 

“I believe I found it,” Adahy finally stood from his chair. The boys looked up from their idle positions on the floor.

Dean’s eyes sparked as he rose alongside his brother. “What is it?” They huddled around to stare at the open pages. Adahy’s fingers hovered across the scratchy text, his mouth moving wordlessly as he scanned the page. Then he stopped, tapping the paper.

“Here it is.”

“What’s it say?” Sam asked as he leaned over.

“Souls are a source of infinite energy. They are a pure source of light and when used properly, very powerful. Consenting souls are even more dangerous…” Adahy skipped over till he finally reached what he was looking for. “Taking a soul requires magic beyond normal means. In order to do this, one must offer a part of themselves in return. A soul will recognize another soul… If this part of the soul wielder is destroyed or they are killed, the captured souls will no longer be bound to the offered piece as it crosses into a different plane of existence.” The three of them stood there, processing what they had just heard.

“So, what?” Dean spoke up, “She — she took a piece of her soul and used it as some sorta magnet? Moths to a flame dealio?”

“I don't really know. How do you you rip apart your soul?” Adahy said with disgust, frowning down at the book.

“I don’t know, she’s probably fucking Voldemort or something,” Dean mumbled. Sam gave him an amused glance. “But it doesn’t matter how she did it. All that matters is that it tells us how to free the souls, so we got what we need there. Does it say anything about the blade?”

Adahy scanned the book again, flipping to the next page, then gave an affirmative grunt. “It does not specify… but this might be close: Soul energy and souls themselves are malleable and can be shaped or forced into a physical object or body. They still obey the owner’s command whilst in this form.”

Dean grimaced, “And? How do you destroy it?”

Adahy continued to read, “The one who makes the object will control it as long as it is in their possession. If the creator is deceased, the souls are released.”

Dean paused, “Wait. So that means if she doesn’t hold it, she can’t control it.”

Adahy looked up, “That’s what it seems to imply. But it doesn’t say for sure.”

“Well maybe is good enough for me.”

“So… the only way to really free the souls and save Cas, is to kill her,” Sam said slowly.

Dean sighed and worried his lip, dragging a hand over his face. “Yeah, and that should be a piece of cake. So no reverse spell?” Dean turned to Adahy.

Adahy shook his head slowly as he flipped a couple more pages. “It is… simpler than I thought. I assumed she had cast a spell but — she only offered her spirit.”

“So we  _ have  _ to kill her. How are we gonna do that when she’s using the soul energy?”

Sam took a deep breath and glanced at Dean. “Have the souls… had an affect on her? I mean, mentally or physically. One vessel can only hold so much before falling apart.”

Dean jaw clenched at the flash of memories. Adahy stared at Sam befuddled, “Not that I know. If anything, her body and spirit have been preserved.”

“Well the angel blade worked on her,” Dean added, “And depending on how many she's got, it may not affect her — like… that.”

Sam nodded and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Okay. Well — then at least we know that works. I still have mine. Dean?”

“I think I dropped it back at the church.”

“That's fine, we only need one.”

“Wait,” Adahy jutted in, “Are you sure you can defeat her with just a blade? She has strong magic — and a guardian.”

“Dean can distract Cas. Then me and you can try and shank her. You take the shotgun, I take the blade.”

“You think I can distract him long enough?” Dean asked, “I mean — If he’s like he was back there. I don't stand a chance.”

“Dean,” Sam looked his brother in the eye, “Use your head. It's our best shot. And I'm sure Cas will try the best he can. You know he will.”

“But she’s still stronger than us. This is stupid,” Dean frowned.

“Look,” Sam dragged a hand over his tired face, “We’ve got something. We have to at least try. We have no idea how much time we’ve got — or Cas.”

Dean’s brows pinched together and he felt the familiar throb in his head.

“We are going to try Dean,” Sam reiterated, “And we won’t be totally unprepared.”

Dean still stared at Sam with eyes narrowed, his arms folded across his chest. “Okay then. How do we find them without being ambushed first?”

Sam pursed his lips and tapped his fingers out of habit. He thought a while longer before taking a breath, “You were able to tell when Cas was near last time. If they are close, you should be able to warn us. And if you can re-establish the connection here, you could find out where they are without them being able to get us in here.”

“So this is up to me,” Dean exhaled slowly as he rolled the plan around in his mind. It was high risk, though that was nothing new. They had battled far greater odds before, with far higher consequences. But none of it had involved him using this weird psychic stuff. That had always been Sam’s specialty. He was the one who ran around, hacking and slashing while trying to figure out what those powers meant for Sam and their overall fate.

“Okay,” Dean closed his eyes momentarily, trying to focus. He needed to try. He needed to think of Cas. They had a shot. Finally he opened his eyes, “Let’s do this.”

 

_________________

 

Everything was black.

It wasn’t a cold, desolate darkness, but rather a buzzing mass, swimming along in a vast space.

It wasn’t empty either, it was filled with undulating fabric of thought and memory, constantly changing and connecting in millions of tiny threads interwoven within each other.

But Dean wasn’t looking at those threads, he was looking for one that was lost, dangling and begging to be rewoven within the rest of the ever changing pattern.

The soft thread reached out as it floated above the rest, gliding along the smooth flow of consciousness. It was so subtle that it could easily be ignored. But Dean was searching for it, and it sensed his longing.

The thread appeared as if it had always been there, perfectly fitting within the arrangement of mind and being. Dean held onto that thread, letting it settle and mold into the wall of his mind.

The thread tugged back, tightening the tie between them and suddenly Dean felt his whole being shift. Something bigger and stronger pulled him inward, towards a vortex of incomprehensible complexity that he was forced to pull back to steady himself. He stayed on the outskirts, letting the gravity drag him along, but never inward.

He was suddenly aware of his surroundings. The leather chair he sat in smelled of old smoke and pine. He tried to ignored the way he clutched the chair’s arms as he attempted to concentrate, but now his senses were heightened. The leather was rough, worn from centuries of use. The fire was crackling, burning the dry wood into the air of his nostrils. And his heartbeat was loud in his ears, with his breath and body shaking slightly. He had fallen into a rhythm. In through his nose, out through his mouth.

“I — I think I got it,” he said with unsteady lips to the room. He felt on edge. This would either be really good, or  _ really  _ bad. He swallowed.

_ Cas?  _ He thought. He hoped this worked.  _ Where are you, buddy? _

Dean waited. He still clung to the string, holding on as long as he could. He felt its pull again. And then he was surrounded, more threads reaching and weaving around him in a spiral of soft velvet. It was sudden and shocking, Dean could do nothing but sit in awe.

**_What are you doing?_ ** Cas’s dismayed presence broke through the dark, and Dean shuddered at the sheer volume of his voice.

_ C — Cas. Okay, hey. Um, this has to be quick. _

**_You're lucky she hasn't noticed yet. How did you do it?_ **

_ I — I don't know. _

**_You shouldn't be here. I told you to leave!_ **

_ Cas, just stop and listen for a minute! _

Cas paused, though Dean could feel a wave of anger building behind his silence, but he still breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his friend’s voice.

_ We have a plan. We aren't leaving without you, Cas. We just need to know where you are — or where you'll be. _

**_Dean, no._ **

_ Cas, please. _

The phantom pain ebbed back into him, splashing the dark in his head with red. He clutched the chair harder, hands shaking and brow furrowing. “Cas dammit,” he muttered through gritted teeth. The ache increased and he struggled to maintain his concentration.

**_It's — her._ ** Cas's voice was softer than before.

_ Then hurry up. Where are you? _

**_No._ **

_ Cas! _

Dean growled and bit down on his jaw. If Cas was being difficult, then he'd have to dig for what he wanted. The softness of the angel was slowly pulling away, tugging and trying to push him out. No, Cas was not getting away with that. No matter how much he wanted to push him out of harm’s way, Dean was not going to just let him go. Didn’t Cas understand that by now?

He reached out, pulling him closer and strengthening his hold. A drop of surprise rippled across the connection, and the foreign emotion gave Dean pause. It was still strange to experience Cas so open like this. But even if it was — weird, it was the most soothing thing he’d ever felt.

Dammit. Focus Winchester!

_ Castiel, where are you? _

Blotches of color suddenly appeared inside his mind’s eye. Cold dread accompanied the blurred images, and Dean felt a pang of guilt for forcing this from Cas, but it was necessary.

_ Show me where you are. _

The images cleared, and suddenly he was no longer in his chair. He knew he was in the cabin, but his senses were telling him otherwise. This was definitely near the top of his list of weirdest out of body experiences. The rushing of water passed below him. Every splash and trickle crystal clear, too clear to be humanly possible. Once he got over the shock of noise, his sight snapped into place and there was the river. But he was above it all: the trees, the village, the red landscape. Somehow he knew the cabin was only a little ways from where he — Cas, was. They’d passed this part of the river before. He knew where to go.

**_Dean, stop._ **

Dean flinched as he was thrown away from the sight, his mind thrust back into its own silky blackness.

_ Cas, we’re coming. _

**_NO._ **

_ That’s not your choice. _

**_This is what she wants. I don’t want to kill you, Dean._ **

_ You won’t, and I don’t give a damn about her. _

**_Dean. This is your final warning. If you choose to do this —_ **

_ I already did — _

**_Then you are a fool._ **

_ No, I am your family. There’s a difference. _

For the second time that day, a bitter sadness crept over him and clawed at Dean’s heart. The cold washed in, bringing with it a weariness and sorrow that numbed all feeling. There was something off about it, like a sickness sitting in his chest and waiting to spread. It wasn’t right.

Foul amusement wormed its way through the mental threads, a sluggish mass that enveloped the comforting velvet. It was growing and multiplying, a cancer eating through the rope tying them together.

**_Don’t —_ ** Cas’s voice was strained, and now he was pushing even harder, struggling to throw Dean off.  **_I’m sorry._ **

Dean grappled for a hold but everything was chaos, thrashing waves and twisting tendrils. Dean was slipping, the threads breaking. He could barely feel Cas now, the connection’s strength weakening and weakening until the last strand finally snapped. Dean tumbled, lost in the emptiness of his own mind.

Dean forced himself to open his eyes.

His breath was coming in loud gasps, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead as he blinked against the dim light. The room slowly regained focus as his heart calmed to a steady rate.

Adahy and Sam were standing right in front of him, their faces pale and scared as they stared at him wide-eyed. Dean could do nothing but stare back as he took deep breaths.

“Hu — Hi guys,” he panted, forcing a smile.

Sam shook himself and threw a glance at Adahy. “We — you scared the hell out of us! You looked like you’d collapse any minute. Adahy said I shouldn’t interrupt — Are you okay?!”

“I — I’ve been better…” Dean attempted to swallow around his dry throat. “This mind thing is really — really something.” He slouched forward and heard a satisfying crack as his joints finally moved after sitting for god knows how long.

“And did — did you find them?”

Dean looked up at his brother with a smirk on his face, “Oh, you bet I did.”

“Holy shit,” Sam’s lips quirked up in a small smile, “You actually did it.”

“I did it. Don’t know how but — holy crap,” Dean dropped his head again, chuckling to himself, “But man, now you’ve gotta call me Professor X.”

Sam snorted and crossed his arms, “What, cause you’ll go bald when you’re an old man in a wheelchair?”

“At least I’m awesome. Cool guys  don’t need hair.”

Sam chuckled, “Whatever old man.” Adahy glanced at the both of them, completely lost. “Oh we’re just talking about a movie,” Sam explained.

“What’s a movie?” Adahy asked with a frown.

“Oh... um. Nevermind, it’s not important,” Sam waved off the question.

Dean stretched his limbs as he stood up, moving his muscles and flexing his fingers. Sam offered a hand but Dean pushed it aside. “Not in a wheelchair yet,” he muttered.

Sam sighed but nodded and looked around at their small group. They had their guns, ammo, and Sam held the angel blade firmly in his hand, the silver metal glinting off the firelight. “So can you lead us there Dean?”

Dean nodded, “Follow me.”

 

_________________

  
  


Leaving the safety of the cabin was nerve wracking. But once they began their way downward and through the maze of trees, an illusion of security set in that kept their feet moving forward.

Dean knew the way relatively well by now and he stayed on the outskirts of the forest to compare their position with that of the village, still looming in the mist beyond.

The bend of the river was burned into his mind, the droplets running together in a windy path towards the dry hills. Dean looked up at the clouds above, squinting to see if he could catch a glimpse of blue somewhere in their smoke. What Dean had seen had been from above, so Cas had to be somewhere up there, in the clouds, so close to the stars, but it all looked the same shade of gray.

The way down was silent except for the growing rush of water. Dean’s heart sped up as he began to recognize the terrain. They would have to be much more alert now.

But Dean hadn’t felt anything yet. No pull, no whispers, and no Cas. Not yet.

Dean’s gun rested in the holster of his jeans. At least they had been smart enough to bring those. Sam and Adahy held their weapons openly, ready for the witch to show her filthy head so they could shoot it full of holes. But Dean — Dean’s focus wasn’t on her. His job was to keep Cas occupied, and he wouldn’t — couldn’t need his gun for that. So he left it in his belt.

How he would occupy Cas was a different question. Dean was still unsure about this whole connection thing, why the hell it was there and why Cas had never bothered to tell him that they shared this — thing between them. Hell, it would’ve been useful in several situations but also — how come Dean had never felt it before? It couldn’t have been too hard to notice something was off after all these years. Why had Dean never realized it?

Of course, Sam and Adahy had given him minimal insight on it, but how could Cas have hidden this from him for so long? He would have to ask him once this was all over — once they saved Cas. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered.

The damp, metallic tang of water grew stronger the closer they came. Dean licked his dry lips and looked around. They stood close to the water’s edge, the same cliffs still rising on the opposite bank. On their shore, the land steadily ascended into rocky terrain, the skeleton of houses haunting the brush and wavering like dark ghosts through the growing mist. It was all familiar, so he stopped.

Sam and Adahy shuffled behind him, tapping nervous fingers against their weapons.

“Is this it?” Sam whispered.

Dean nodded, “I'm pretty sure.”

Sam scanned the landscape, taking in every rock and crevice. “There's not a lot of cover here Dean.”

“I know,” Dean looked left to the flowing river beside him, “But I think you've got enough rocks around here. As long as I keep Cas off you, you'll have at least something.” He swallowed, “And it's not like we haven't beaten the odds before.”

Sam nodded and glanced around again, “Can you sense anything?”

Dean breathed deeply and let the air hiss past his teeth. He closed his eyes and tried to open his mind. He didn't search for the now familiar presence, but expanded his senses. It was surprisingly easy, and Dean felt a bit proud. It extended like a bubble around him, oblivious to his brother’s and Adahy's existence.

He was cautious, taking it slow. Dean swallowed as he reached across the river — and felt a hum begin to buzz behind his eyes, throwing him a mental red flag. His eyes fluttered open, the water suddenly loud in his ears. He looked down to see the river lapping at his feet, the liquid running up the sand to pull at his boots.

“I think they’re close,” Dean said quietly, “I can hear him, but… it’s fuzzy.” He stared at the droplets forming on the toes of his shoes.

A faint click echoed on the rocks as Adahy pulled back the hammer of his gun. “I’m ready for her,” he said, his face set in a cold frown, “Her time is long due.”

Dean took a small step towards the water, watching his feet sink an inch deeper into the dark river.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Dean’s head snapped up at his brother’s voice.

“What?” He frowned, “I’m not allowed to walk in the water?”

Sam sighed and pursed his lips in his signature bitch face. “Just get out and stop giving me a heart attack.”

“Fine,”  Dean shook his head and took a step back towards the dry dirt. His feet refused to move and he stared at them, confused. He pulled again. Nothing. Confusion immediately switched to alarm as he kept trying. Eventually he heard Sam cough.

“Dean, you haven’t moved.”

“I know,” Dean’s voice was tense, and he refused to move his eyes from his feet. Sam suddenly straightened up, shoulders set.

“Dean, what’s wrong?”

“I think you should get away from the water.”

“Dean —”

“I don’t know what it is. Don’t try and help — AHH!” Dean cried out as he was pulled off his feet, his body splashing down along the bank. “Shit!”

“Dean!” Sam and Adahy  ran over to him, careful to avoid the water. “Dean, take my hand,” Sam attempted to keep a calm facade, reaching his long arm across to grasp Dean’s hand. He pulled as hard as he could but Dean wouldn’t budge.

Dean was jerked further into the water and he flailed for a grasp on the mainland.

“Dean!!” Now Sam barged fully into the water, ignoring his brother’s refusals. Adahy raised his shotgun and scanned the water for any movement.

Sam pulled at him again, ripping a few seams of Dean’s jacket as his brother breathed heavily.

“The fuck?!” Dean tried to kick a the water, but it just dragged him further. “Sam!”

“Dean, just hold on, just —”

Dean’s eyes went wide as another tug dragged him completely under.

“DEAN!” Sam grabbed at the water where his brother had just been, his heart racing in his throat. “No…” he rushed forward until the water sloshed up to his thighs, dragging his hands furiously through the current, “No!”

“Sam,” Adahy’s surprisingly soft voice reached Sam’s ears, “Look at the water.”

Sam momentarily stopped ripping through the waves and looked up, panting. His breath cut short when his eyes caught the sight. He stared at the low glow slinking under the river, a serpentine light swimming slowly in a spiral and growing in brilliance.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, returning his gaze to his hands, still stagnant. He started searching again frantically. A gasp of air erupted from the water as Dean suddenly reappeared on the surface. Sam shot up, “Dean!”

Dean bobbed on the surface of the river, several feet away from the bank, looking around wildly and coughing up water.

“Dean! Over here, over —”

A shiver ran down Sam’s spine, a cold creeping up his back and prickling the hairs on his neck. A foul smell washed over them, clogging their nostrils with the unwelcome stench. A cackle echoed off the cliffs as the sound of scuffing dragged behind them.

Sam turned around, staring into the mist descending upon them. His mouth curled in a snarl as the dark figure made its way towards them. He raised his blade as Adahy aimed his gun.

“You let him go,” Sam kept his stance as he glared. 

The witch straightened up, taking a deep, shaky breath. Her yellow eyes shown between her wispy hair, flicking to Adahy with a smile. “Oh my dear child. It has been a long while since I’ve seen you. Hanvdadiasgo?”

“I remember. Do not think I’ve forgotten what you did? You will never rest for what you’ve done,” Adahy stared at her, his hands shaking as they clutched his gun, “You will pay for what you did.”

“She will,” Sam said, shifting the witch’s attention. “And you will let Dean go.”

She tilted her head with a twisted smile, “You think this will be easy, don’t you?” Sam knit his brow as she withdrew the white, glowing dagger from behind her.  “As for your brother… I will not hurt him,” Her rotten teeth shown through her twisted smile, “He will.” The dagger began to glow brighter as she clutched its handle.

The sound of churning water bubbled in Sam’s ears, roaring and drowning the normal rush of the river. Sam spun around, eyes wide. Dean clung to a rock, barely high enough to be seen through the flood of water now churning and frothing into a whirlpool. Sam watched in horror as his brother clutched and fought against the water. The river swirled in a circle only a few meters from him, growing and glowing in a way no water should.

“DEAN!” Sam cried. Dean looked up, meeting Sam’s gaze. Dean’s face fell as he saw the look on his brother’s face, staring at him in fear. Then he stared at the whirlpool, aswirl mere feet from him. He was holding on as tight as he could, his arms shaking with the effort of resisting the current. He could go nowhere, and there was no way anyone could reach him.

The water continued to pull at him and he could only stare at the rising water — and then he saw it. That telltale light, shining blue and weaving under the surface. He gasped as it suddenly shot at him and snared his leg. He cried out and tightened his hold as  it yanked him back, but his strength was no use. He went under.

The world disappeared in a rush of black, water flooding his throat and nose, burning like fire as he was dragged down. The pressure in his head and lungs burned as he swallowed mouthfuls of water, coughing only to have it push its way back into his lungs. He was drowning. He couldn’t breath.

As his eyes started to dim and lungs burned for air, he felt another pressure around his waist. He only saw a glowing blur as he tried to claw whatever it was off him, but as he touched it, he felt his heart go cold. Dean’s eyes flared open as he finally understood. He scanned the water for anything he could see, but everything was black silk and churning water.

Then Dean saw him, like he knew he would. Two glowing eyes, staring up at him from the depths. Two circles of pure fathomless light.

_ Cas. _

Dean felt the current shift around him, the water surging to accommodate a gigantic mass. Then the eyes rose, ascending from the dark and towards the surface at incredible speed. Dean suddenly remembered that he still couldn’t breath as he inhaled more water and he heard a loud crash above him.

He yelled when he was dragged upward, breaking the surface and rising higher and higher as he coughed and spit up water. The world was fuzzy and he tried to take great gulps of air but there was a tightness around his chest. When at last he could breath and see, he blinked and suddenly felt the blood drain from his face.

In front of him was something he could never have dreamt in his wildest dreams. Terror and awe struck him in the same moment, both emotions a catalyst for the other. Dean trembled as he stared. A giant face filled his view, the great eyes now accompanied by a grander outline. Grace swam on the angel’s skin, weaving together to create the elegant face, arms, and torso, partially submerged in the water — the water now at least several hundred feet below him as he dangled helplessly in the air.

Dean should’ve been scared shitless to be this high up, but right now, all he could focus on was  _ Cas.  _ Cas, right in front of him, holding him in the air with only tendrils of grace and staring at him with a form Dean had never seen or could ever fully comprehend.

Dean could see how he towered over the river, and he couldn’t look away. Castiel’s true form — this was Castiel’s  _ true form! _ Powerful and grand and indescribable. His humanoid shape was slightly elongated, the proportions extended and face round, with his eyes the only visible facial feature.

But then Dean noticed his wings — all six of them, extending from his back and rising above the hillside, reaching and almost touching the stars, their own constellations embedded in the nebulous feathers. He was so bright, shining like a star himself, grace dancing and forming his very being. Dean couldn’t help it. Cas was — Cas was  _ beautiful.  _ Dean only wished he had seen him before, and not like this.

Of all the ways Dean expected to see Cas, this was not it. Cas should've showed him voluntarily, not forced against his will. This felt wrong, intrusive, to see something so heavenly _. _ Dean was only a man.

“Cas…” Dean breathed as Cas drew closer, the sound of grace ringing in his ears. He grit his teeth and held back a whimper as his mind exploded with an angry voice.

**_I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME._ **

Dean cried out as it resonated in his mind, the connection melding together so fast he had no time to prepare.

**_YOU SHOULD HAVE LISTENED._ **

Fire shot through Dean’s skin where the grace burned and wove around him. He screamed as the pain shot up his spine and continued to spread.

**_STUPID FOOL OF A WINCHESTER._ **

Dean’s throat was raw as his mind and body were set aflame, his vision going white.

_ Cas stop!!! _

The pain receded but still shook him to his core. Above the white noise, a louder, deeper sound pounded into his ears. As his vision cleared and chest heaved with effort, he could still see Cas’s face bright and glowing in front of him. But something had changed. He looked at Cas again, trying to ignore the constant burn flowing through his veins. Then the sound echoed again and Dean’s eyes grew even wider.

It was a growl, guttural and deep, emanating from a mouth Dean had missed at first glance. There were teeth, long and gleaming, light spilling from an orifice and joining the eyes that stared at him unblinking.

He needn’t be afraid, he needn’t be afraid, he  _ shouldn’t  _ be afraid!

His breath was suddenly snatched from him again as the grace wove impossibly tight around his chest, constricting him as he clawed at the the incorporeal substance. Fear was spiking his system as he struggled, with nothing else he could do. The pain returned, and so did his screams.

“CAS! DON’T!!!” Another voice cut through the air below. Dean knew that voice anywhere, and smiled as blood dripped through his teeth. The angel paused and Dean took a deep breath of relief, tasting the copper tang on his tongue.

“CAS! YOU’RE KILLING HIM! STOP!!” Castiel stopped. Dean was shaking, mind filled with a rage that didn't belong to him. It didn't seem to belong to Cas either, in fact Cas felt distant, his will smothered by a heavy cloak that was slowly strangling them both.

This was it, this was his chance.

_ Cas, you need to stop. We need time, just fight her. _

Cas craned his neck to eye Dean again, drawing closer with a heavy air that made it even harder to breathe.

_ Fight her. Sam needs time. _

Another growl penetrated the air and Dean winced.

_ Don't. Come on, you've done this before. You're in control, not her. You don't want to kill me? Then prove it!  _ The growling stopped, easing the pounding in his head. It was short lived. Another voice shot through his mind, hissing and dripping with venom.

**Teloc.**

The soft velvet Dean knew as Cas trembled, both overwhelming presences battling across the connection as he cowered and retreated in his own mind, avoiding getting caught in the crossfire.

**Just kill him. It's not so hard. Humans are like glass. Break him, it will be quick.**

**_I will not hurt Dean!_ **

**You've already done it. It's almost over — just finish it. Put him out of his misery.**

_ Cas?  _ Dean silently called, hanging almost limply in his grip.

Dean heard a loud bang below him, the sound of a shotgun firing, directly followed by a metal clash. He couldn't look, his vision obscured by wings and light. Sam was fighting, he needed to last a little longer.

_ Cas, focus on me. _

The smothering presence flickered, allowing Cas to rise and tighten their thread, pulling him closer.

_ It's okay, fight her. You can fight her. _

The grace flowing through the angel’s skin undulated and hastened, condensing and causing him to shake harder. His wingtips trembled as he kept staring at Dean, a sadness pooling in his gaze. Then finally, he stopped shaking. He sighed, in and out of his great celestial form.

_ Okay, okay…  _ Dean’s panic cooled and he could now feel the ache in his bones.  _ Can you put me down? _

Cas tilted his head, so reminiscent of his vessel. His sad expression suddenly turned sour, a scowl twisting his mouth downward and narrowing his eyes, eyes that Dean now realized were not only adorning his face but were also scattered across his massive wings. The stars in his feathers weren’t stars at all. Dean shuddered.

_ Caaas. _

Castiel turned away, looking down and allowing Dean to catch a glimpse of the battle below. Sam was in the middle of a fray, ducking and twirling the angel blade to try and reach the witch's heart. Adahy fired his shotgun, interrupting her lightening quickness, but whenever Sam lunged to finish her, she would quickly reappear behind him — and Sam was looking tired.

Sam wasn't going to last for much longer. Fuck, Adahy stood no chance. And Dean was useless.

The distraction was enough for Dean to feel the sick presence slither into the connection again. Dean yelled as he was jerked forward, closer to Cas as his mouth widened to emit a high pitched roar, stabbing his eardrums.

“No, no, no, no, no, no!!” Dean panicked and struggled against his ethereal restraints. “Cas. No!” He was perilously close now, a panic setting in as he felt the energy burning on his skin. Dean breathed in and out, returning his concentration to the grace washing over him.

**Teloc!**

The word jarred the both of them again. And dammit! What the hell did it mean?

**_Death…_ ** Castiel replied, his essence humming like an approaching storm.  **_She wants death._ **

Dean swallowed and waited. There wasn’t much else he could do but wait. The thread was taut. Dean could feel how they both reached across, desperately trying to hold on to each other.

Then slowly, Cas calmed, a dark thought curling under the surface of his grace. His eyes narrowed again, the light of them brightening as they traveled down to where the battle ensued.

**_She wants death,_ ** Castiel’s wings spread wider, blocking the stars and replacing them with their own splatter of blue orbs.  **_Then she shall have it._ **

Dean yelped and his stomach lurched as the water suddenly rushed up to meet him. He was falling, but when his body hit the water, the river split and softened his fall as it filled in over his head.

At first he panicked, but then he felt his feet hit solid rock and he kicked off of it. He burst through the surface, swallowing the sweet air and swimming his way to the shore. He crawled unto the gravel, his arms shaking as he let himself collapse, not caring as the dirt plastered itself to his face and clothes.

A deafening roar forced him to cover his ears. He turned on his side to see Cas still standing in the river. He gaped as he craned his neck to see his full height. Castiel loomed over the landscape, passing even the treeline of the cliffs above. Had he been that high up? Shit. It was at least a thousand feet. Cas hadn’t been kidding about the Chrysler building comparison.

Castiel was glaring down, what looked like shoulders tensed and long fingers curled into claws. Grace spilled out behind him, framing his massive wings and flaring like a blue nova. Dean could see him fully now; see his humanoid figure filled with light that pulsed and condensed in a vague shape around his frame. Legs extended below the water, glowing under the surface where he stood. And on his head, feathers extended where human ears would be and more adorned him like a crown, spreading with his wings as they stretched across the sky.

Six simultaneous wing beats flattened Dean against the ground, and from the yells of surprise he could hear, the others had been too. A shower of water fell over Dean’s head as the river crashed back into place, its current resuming its natural flow as the angel hovered overhead.

The blue grace still burned, wrapping the angel in a robe of flames and a halo of fire.

Dean stared, mouth and eyes still wide open, “Holy fuck.”

Another set of wing beats and the angel shot across the sky, circling them until he stopped above the withered houses, their timbers cracking under the hurricane of his wings.

Dean finally shook himself as another gunshot rang through the air. He turned to see blood splatter across the dirt, Adahy’s shotgun smoking as he and Sam lay on the ground. The witch had apparently remained standing. She stood rigid, blood drenching her rags as she stared up at the sky. Her yellow eyes glared at the seraph before her, fury etched on every line of her face.

**“You imbecile! You fallen fool! I am giving you freedom and you refuse.”**

A deep growl echoed from the rocks as light extended to bleach the landscape blue. Dean looked up to see the fluid anger writhing around the angel’s form. He couldn’t help but try and cower away from it as the heat became near unbearable.

**“** **_This is not freedom. You think the chains of love are what imprison me? Then you have no understanding of love. Although it binds me, it is a bond I would never break. Yes, my chains have kept me from flying, but they also keep me from falling,”_ ** Castiel’s voice rang through the air, echoing words of truth and honesty.  **_“You try to tempt me with your stolen power. You know all that I’ve done — that I have already taken that path and been led astray. I will not fall into that trap again. Your efforts are futile.”_ **

The witch screamed in frustration,  **“I tried to make you see! But you deny me! You are mine! You are mine!!!”**

Another roar and a flap of wings; wind blasted through the small valley as currents of flame wound into a pillar of fire, towering high into the sky and threatening to devour the land in orange light.

**_GET OUT._ **

The words shot through Dean’s brain and sprang him to his feet. He could see Adahy and Sam already rushing towards him and away from the fiery whirlwind. Behind them he could still see the witch, staying her ground as lightning curled at her fingertips.

If this was going to be a fucking boss battle they had to get out now. But if Cas had released himself of her hold, that meant he could defeat her… right?

A loud crack split the air as lightning flashed across the clearing to strike the angel in the chest, the red bolt ripping a cry from Cas that made Dean’s ears hurt. The angel returned the gesture as streams of grace shot down and blasted a giant crater where the witch had just been.

The fire spread, the tornado whirling and throwing its embers across the sky.

“Shit!” Sam exclaimed as the first fire caught in the trees on the cliffs. It was like watching dominos, the line of green slowly bursting into blossoms of red as each fell to light another.

“We can’t go back to the hills,” Adahy sputtered with a heavy breath.

Dean coughed as the smoke began to burn his lungs, “No. But there’s still the village.” They all nodded and looked to the east where the fog still clung to the abandoned houses. The moon stood above, staring down like a giant eye.

“Let’s go,” Sam panted, blood droplets painting his face and angel blade still in hand. They started running, the flames spreading as their feet flew them away from the chaos. Dean glanced over his shoulder, daring a look as Castiel flew down. A streak of silver flashed in his giant hand as his wings folded in for a dive.

“Dean!” Dean snapped his gaze forward at his brother’s voice. He had fallen behind, and picked up his speed to race forward again. Flames climbed the air behind him, sweeping across the sky — but Dean couldn’t look back. This was not his battle.

A satisfied grin spread across Dean’s face as they drew closer to the village, hope singing through his soul as he heard the wrath of his angel echoing through the air. Castiel was a soldier, a strategist, and a fucking terrifying opponent. Cas would win — Cas would crush that bitch under his heel and free the souls. Then he could come back to them, then he could come home.

And it was that thought that kept Dean running, far away and through the mist — carried to safety by a glimmer of hope.

Soon they’d all be safe. Soon, it would all be over.

 

_________________

 

Castiel cried out with an Enochian curse ripping through the air. Fury crackled around him as he hissed at the wound in his grace, the missing threads desperately trying to fill the hole in his chest. Angels had no hearts — there was no need for one, but the large gap still spilled liquid grace and drained his essence of its required energy.

Castiel hated to admit it — but the witches attacks were draining him. He himself had managed to burn her through with holy fire a few times, but whenever the meat started to slide from her bones, she would draw upon the energies of the souls — drinking them in like an eternal elixir, renewing her flesh and recharging her spirit. It was unnatural. It should not be.

But eventually she would tire, he knew. Souls may provide infinite energy, but even they could not go on forever without rest. He should know.

But he had realized too late why he had not yet obliterated her being and dragged her soul to the pit — she had shared the souls to make him strong again, now she was reversing it to make him weak. He was losing strength the longer they fought. He could already feel his wings tiring, his feathers singeing at the tips as they began to regress back to their ruined state.

She was a leech, sucking the power from his grace.

This only served to infuriate him further. He attacked again with full force, roaring and sending tendrils of blue flames across the gap between them, which enwrapped her arms and legs — ripping furiated screams from her twisted mouth. She fell to her knees, pathetic cries coming from her babbling mouth. Any other being would be unable to hear her over the high frequency ringing in the air, but Cas could hear every toxic word she spat.

“ **You betrayed me!! You were my guardian and you betrayed me!!”** She cried as she finally huddled to the ground, flames enveloping her once more.

Cas growled with annoyance. The woman was clearly insane — to think that he owed her anything, that his forced servitude meant he had any loyalty to her! If she was looking for pity, she would receive none.

She had hurt him, she had hurt hundreds of innocent people, and she had hurt Dean.

The flames bound her as she lay crying in the dirt, her tears mingled with the blood dripping from her burning flesh. Castiel looked down upon her, seeing her warped and charred body — barely human.

The angel paused, the soul before him bowed down in a sign of submission. He hovered down to her, restricting his form so that he shrunk down to an almost human height. He splayed his wings and kept his form firm as he walked forward, leaving a ethereal combinations of flowers and fire in his wake.

The witch cowered away from him as he approached, whimpering when he bent down to look at her. His unmoving gaze examined her, he could see the other souls twisting around inside her — locked in a prison of flesh and begging to be freed.

Castiel raised his hand, the longer fingers nearing her. She cried out and raised her own skeletal hand to him, “ **Please don’t kill me! I don’t want the fire! The eternal fire that burns, burns, burns!”** Gargled sobs bubbled from her throat.

Castiel stopped. Something nagged at him as he stared at the weeping woman. Her burned form huddled around itself, sheltering herself from her own nakedness. She was deformed, twisted, and blackened beyond human repair — but still human.

She was still human.

Castiel lowered his hand. The witch looked up at him with surprised and terrified eyes. She was staring at him in amazement, her eyes no longer a glowing yellow, but a startling brown.

“ **_Stikini,_ ** ” Castiel’s voice rumbled, low and gentle, “ **_You have committed many atrocities throughout your life. You have killed your friends, your family. You have killed others’ friends and family. You have taken the souls of those you’ve killed and trapped them for your own power. Your road to the afterlife is not a bright one.”_ ** Stikini kept her eyes glued to the angel as he spoke. “ **_But it doesn’t have to be Stikini. Release the souls and I will let you go — live a human life, start over and make amends. I will not show you pity — but I will show you mercy, should you accept.”_ **

Her gaze widened, her brown eyes going wet as tears built at the corners. “You — You’ll let me go?”

Cas nodded, relaxing his wings and letting them fold at his sides, “ **_If you release the souls, and promise to never attempt immortality again.”_ **

A smile pulled at her burnt lips, a soft laugh choked out of her raw throat. She crawled forward, slowly struggling to draw nearer and sit up, “Why?”

“ **_You are human. Humans make mistakes, and humans forgive. That is not a quality to be taken lightly. Forgiveness is a gift that you have the privilege of experiencing. And I believe, sometimes forgiveness is needed to change the wretched into saints, the fallen into heroes.”_ **

The woman looked down at her dirtied hands, skin torn and bone black. Gently, Castiel reached down and grasped her hand. He let his grace wash over her, healing her wrinkled skin and reweaving the rags that covered her.

She stared at her renewed body, then met the angels eyes. “Thank you,” She smiled, her teeth still crooked and yellow. She leaned closer, her brown eyes keeping focus on the angel. She brought forward her other hand, bringing it slowly towards the angel.

“But —” her eyes flashed back to a sickly yellow. Cas released her hand and spread his wings in alarm, “You are a fool.”

The white dagger materialized in her hand as Cas made to fly backwards, far away from her. The blade sliced through his closeted left wing, cutting through the grace assembling  the physical ligament of the limb. He screamed and crashed to the ground, his other wings flapping to try and makeup for the loss. He screamed louder as her foot pressed down on the injured appendage. The venom of the blade burned across the wound, empowering the poison already corrupting his grace.

No! He could feel his mind crowded again, his own conscious drowned out in the cries of the souls and the wishes of the witch. “ **_I GAVE YOU A CHANCE!!_ ** ” He yelled in fury, shaking the ground even in this smaller form.

“ **You gave me an opportunity,** ” the witch’s smile was wicked and cruel. She crunched down on his wing and the angel hissed, buffeting her with the remaining five. She was flung back and he shot up wayward to tower over her once again.

“ **You are very compassionate for a creature without a heart,** ” she snarled, “ **I can see why you have fallen so far. It is you’re own doing.”**

**_“Is it wrong to be kind!?”_ ** Cas yelled. He wanted to burn her again, take back the grace he’d used to heal her and watch her rot — but he could not move.

The witch continued smugly, “ **I can see now, how such a creature can fall for so little. It is sad, that you were too weak to overcome it.”**

**_“I have fallen for humanity, because they are better than us —”_ **

The witch laughed, watching the liquid grace drip from her dagger, “ **You think I speak of humanity as a whole. You are very wrong, poor creature.”**

**_“What do you mean?”_ ** Castiel glared at her, tired of her games, tired of her riddles.  **_“Tell me, you have kept it from me long enough!”_ **

The witch chuckled again, approaching him and crouching where he knelt — face to face. She touched a wretched hand to his face, Cas snarling in response. He moved to attack her, but his form refused. Her hold was growing stronger, his will dissolving, fading with his conscious.

**“Return to your vessel, you may yet need it.”** Cas felt the command resonate through his grace, and immediately he felt his form condensing, reshaping itself into human flesh — the flesh she had earlier ordered him to abandon and tuck away in the recesses of his being.

He gasped when his body solidified; human eyes, skin, and lungs. His familiar coat and tie still hung to his frame, the shirt and pants rubbing against his taut skin. Shifting forms was not something he was used to, his body buzzed and his head spun. Despite the uncomfortable change, it did nothing to ease the fire in his gaze.

“Tell me, bitch,” Cas sneered, “What is it about me that surprises you?”

The witch still smiled, lowering her hand, “You are compassionate, you love so fiercely even if it means your undoing.”

Castiel glared at her, waiting.

“You have fallen Castiel. You have fallen so far. So it shouldn’t have surprised me when I saw…” A satisfied grin decorated her face as she waited for his reaction, “Castiel, you have fallen in love with a human.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "Hanvdadiasgo" - do you remember (Cherokee)


	6. Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Out of the danger for now, the lot find shelter in the only place they can: Jane Village.

 

**October 13th: 12:17 am**

 

The fire behind them brightened as they raced across the desertscape. The wind hushed, silently carrying the mingled smell of ash and pine as it flowed over them, until it was only a whisper in the dark. Until it was just the wind and the sound of crushed gravel.

Their footsteps slowed as they struggled for breath, panting with pangs in their sides, until they finally came to a stop. Dean stood bent over with his hands on his knees. The air made him shiver, the shaking in his legs harder now from the exertion and the cold of his wet clothes. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. He looked over at Sam and Adahy. They were just as worn out as he was. Dean glanced behind them.

He could no longer see the bright shine of the angel he knew was hidden in the mist. Only the fire lay untouched by the grey shroud. It was growing, the dry brush feeding the hungry flames — but it wouldn't reach them, the breeze carrying it far in the opposite direction. The village before them would lay untouched, cursed to forever watch as time moved around it — no change, just the same night, again and again and again… Dean can’t imagine how Adahy stayed sane through the infernal loop.

Dean shook, the adrenaline draining from him, revealing the burn of his muscles. He was hot, his breath clouding and stinging his frozen cheeks. A hand on his shoulder urged him onward, and with feet of led he tread forward, letting the hand guide him through the wooden maze of houses. Barely able to focus his buzzing mind, Dean hardly registered the change of scenery.

The shutting of a door snapped Dean’s attention back to the present. Sam let his hand slip away and stepped further into the musty room. The wood, barely able to be called a frame, looked like it would fall away at the smallest breeze. Dean swallowed around the dryness, the slightly burnt dust clouding his sore throat. He coughed and looked around.

“This where we’re staying?” he asked. The skeletal remains of the house weren’t by any means comfortable, but it looked more sturdy than some of the others he had glanced in his mindless trek here.

Sam sighed, taking a deep breath as he stared intently at the floor. “Yes,” he replied quietly, “Until we think of something else.”

“Shouldn’t we give Cas more time?” Dean asked, “He could win that fight, we just have to wait.”

“And when will we know if he won?” Sam’s tired question the voice of reason, “If we wait, we risk losing time we can’t afford.”

“But —”

“Dean,” Sam stopped him with his leveled gaze.

Dean looked away, avoiding his pitying stare. “Okay… then I’ll...,” Dean sighed, “I don’t know.” He rubbed his face, numb and shaking. His clothes were still wet and clinging to his skin, splattered with dirt and mud.

HIs body was worse for wear but his mind wasn’t any better. He was in shock. The image of twisting light was burned into his mind — literally, it felt like. It wasn’t Cas’s fault, Dean knew this… but the pain resonated through his body, making it difficult to think straight. Wings, eyes, flames…

“Dean…” Sam’s hand was on his shoulder again, “Are you okay?” Both him and Adahy’s eyes were on him still.

He swallowed down the bile that had been churned up with the rest of his insides. He felt like he was going to puke. “I — I think I’m fi—” Dean winced, the rough drag of clothes snagging on a sweep of irritated skin.

Sam immediately dragged him to the cleanest and least burnt bit of floor. “Shirt up,” he demanded as he forced his brother to stand in the corner. Dean didn’t protest, slowly shrugging off his wet jacket and lifting his soaking shirt. Sam’s face went suddenly neutral, all expression drained as his eyes followed a path up Dean’s torso.

“What? Am I that good to look at?” Dean strained a smile that turned into a hiss. He looked down, and his eyes widened. “Son of a bitch.”

A large strip of skin, running from his right hip, up and around to his left shoulder blade was a horrible, blistered mess. The burned skin was as wide as his forearm, the red sections of it where all the skin had peeled off bleed painlessly, while the rest was covered in a white, waxy substance that Dean knew to be severely damaged skin — it looked like he had gotten whipped by a fucking Balrog. Seeing the wound seemed to remind his body that it was supposed to hurt like hell. The adrenaline chose at that moment to wear off and the heat hit him like a brick wall. Dean gasped as his knees went weak and his arms shook. He tried to pull his shirt the rest of the way off, but his left shoulder screamed at him.

“Help...” he whispered. Sam didn’t need to be told the rest before he carefully pulled Dean’s shirt the rest of the way off.

“Okay, okay,” Sam muttered as he helped lower Dean to the ground, “Here, lie down.” He grabbed Dean’s discarded jacket and balled it up as a makeshift pillow, placing it under Dean’s head. “Okay,” he repeated.

“It’s okay Sammy,” Dean tried to calm his brother, “It’s just a burn. We’ll cover it up and keep moving.”

“Just a  — ” Sam stopped and shook his head, “First we have to make sure it doesn’t get infected,” Sam pulled off his own jacket, followed quickly by his shirt.

“Are we giving a show here?” Dean smiled.

“Shut up,” Sam sniped, “You need something clean to cover it and my shirt is definitely cleaner than yours.”

“Then what the hell are you gonna wear?”

“Your shirt, jerk. And besides, you needed to get out of those wet clothes — I doubt that’ll help with hypothermia.”

“Should I start a fire? Something to keep him warm” Adahy stood behind Sam, staring at the burn.

“No, that’s too risky. He can use my jacket.” Sam proceeded to grab Dean’s wet shirt, urging his brother to turn on his good side to allow him to wring whatever clean water was left onto the burn. He prodded at the skin gingerly, swallowing down his disgust as he took away a strip of dead skin. “Did you feel that?”

“No…” Dean focused on the opposite wall, refusing to look up at his brother.

“Dammit Dean,” Sam bit his lip, carefully removing scraps of fabric and dirt with the cleanest side of Dean’s shirt. Dean finally glanced up and saw the red stained piece of clothing in Sam’s hand.

“How are you gonna wear that?” he mumbled, “Or are you gonna Hugh Jackman this and go shirtless?”

“Dean, this isn’t funny… and I’m sure there’s something to clean it with around here.” Dean huffed with a smile. He knew it was bad, the numbness he felt relayed that much. There were no more nerves to cause any pain.

“What did this to him?” Adahy asked as he walked around the room, checking for any salvageable supplies.

Sam took a deep breath through his nose, pausing as Dean’s fists clenched. “It was grace,” he said simply, not bothering to explain further.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Dean said, soft and low.

Sam sighed, “We know it’s not — but… he still did it.”

“What does that mean?” Dean retorted.

“It means this is getting out of hand. What if he hurts you again, or kills you —”

“He won’t —”

“— If he does… then what’s keeping him from doing worse?”

Dean reigned in the wave of anger he felt, “He won’t do that — the witch is probably dead by now and then we can help him get his vessel back, or whatever the hell she did to him and go home.”

Sam’s mouth twitched, “Has he talked to you yet?” Dean’s silence is Sam’s answer. He continued, “Has he reached out to you _at all_ in the last hour it's taken us to get here?”

Dean slowly shook his head, brushing it against the dusty floor. Sam hummed quietly, his point proven, “I’m trying to think of all the possibilities Dean… the fact we may not get Cas back is one of them.”

“How dare you,” Dean sat up suddenly, making him wince. Sam kept his ground, pursing his lips and meeting Dean’s gaze, “I’m thinking logically Dean, I want Cas to come back — I do, but… what if you’re not enough this time?”

Dean swallowed, lips twitching. “It’s worked,” he insisted, “It’s always worked . Whenever he’s been under a spell or mind control — whatever! I’ve always been able to get him out of it. Do you not trust me?”

Sam’s eyes grew sad, guilt filling them, “Of course I trust you Dean, but it’s a strong spell —”

“— It's a strong connection,” Dean replied, staring down his brother.

Sam’s laugh was soft, as was his gaze, “I think that’s the first time you’ve admitted that.”

Dean said nothing, his mind unable to find a good excuse because there was none. He worked his mouth, trying to form words until he finally clenched his jaw, forcing it to work, “Give him another chance Sammy, please...” Sam’s shoulders sagged and his face fell. “Before you start coming up with ways to kill the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Sam closed his eyes, bowing his head. The bloody t-shirt dropped to the floor as Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I just don’t want to watch you die Dean — I’m afraid… you can’t rely on Cas being able to hold back…”

“I won’t die, you big moose,” Dean gave Sam a comforting smile, “I’m just stubborn that way.”

“You definitely are stubborn,” Sam sighed, resting his eyes on his stray shirt, “Here, I’ll help you put this on. It’s better than the wound being exposed.” Dean let his brother slip the shirt over his head, gritting his teeth as the fabric settled on the burn. Fortunately, the shirt was loose enough to leave room for his skin to breath. “Here, this too.” Sam guided Dean’s arms through the sleeves of his jacket until it hung loosely on his shoulders. The warmth of the dry clothes caused Dean to relax, his eyes slipping closed at the small second of comfort. Sam huffed a small laugh, “Better?”

“Yeah,” Dean let himself sink back down to the floor, lying on his back and letting out a long breath.

“Okay,” Sam flashed an uneasy smile, “Good.”

Adahy shifted restlessly behind Sam, his weight causing the crumbling floor to creak. Sam took a deep reassuring breath, turning to the old man, “Adahy, do you know if you could recreate the sigils from your house?”

“Of course,” Adahy nodded, “I’ve memorized all of them.”

“Good,” Sam nodded, “We need to ward this place. Dean needs to rest, and we need time.” Adahy didn’t have to be asked twice before he withdrew a small knife from his boot and got to carving sigils into the wood of the house.

“What do we have with us?” Sam mumbled to himself, patting himself down. He tossed his gun and angel blade on the floor, and carefully dug out a spare clip from the pocket of his jacket, hugged tightly around Dean.

“You still have your gun?” He looked down as Dean slowly opened his eyes.

His brother nodded, “Yeah, on my belt. Bet the powders soaked through.”

“At least you still have the bullets. I’m not sure how many we have left.”

“Enough,” Dean swallowed, “We’ll make it enough.”

“I don’t know if it will be. We need the guns at least as a distraction — they slow her down. Maybe there’s stuff around we can salvage. At least see if there’s any medicine.”

“You shouldn’t go out, not yet… if you think — if you think she’s still out there…”

“Then now’s the time to go looking, while she’s occupied.”

“Fine, just take Adahy. You’re safer in numbers.”

“And leave you alone? In the state you’re in? Hell no.”

“I’ve got the warding _and_ I’ve got a gun, I’ll survive.”

Sam raised an eyebrow skeptically, “You’re already incapacitated. Adahy stays here.”

“There’s no arguing this with you is there.”

“Nope.”

Dean sighed, thudding his head back onto his jacket, “Okay, then make it quick. Half an hour max, you hear me. Or I’m coming to look for you.”

Sam pursed his lips, obviously tempted to argue. “Got it,” he finally resigned, “Half an hour…. but I’m taking your jacket. Your shirt’s too small for me.”

Dean chuckled, “I remember when you used to borrow my clothes for school. It wasn’t until, what, Junior year that you finally needed your own.”

Sam smiled, “Yeah, I think I found that out once I accidentally ripped one trying to put it on.”

“And it was my favorite Metallica shirt too. I was so mad. But dad got me a new one a couple months later.”

“It was one of the few times dad got you something for your birthday.” That earned Sam a warm smile from his brother. Sam shook his head and picked up Dean’s filthy shirt, ringing it out some more before pulling it over his head. He shivered and tried not to think of the blood staining the fabric. The shirt rode up on his hip bones and was tight around his shoulders, but covered what needed to be. He then took the jacket from under Dean’s head and put it on. Although the clothes were wet, at least he hadn’t been soaked through like Dean had. He would deal.

Sam shoved the gun and angel blade back into his belt. “I’ll be back. Don’t get dead.”

“Same to you,” Dean breathed. Sam nodded, glancing at Adahy who was concentrating on carving the charred wood. Then he swallowed down the sick feeling in his stomach and walked back out into the dark.

 

_________________

  


Five minutes.

Sam kept a mental clock ticking in his head as he walked around, gun snug in his hand and eyes flicking around the crumbling alleyways. He’d gone through the first row of houses, finding nothing more than ash and dried bones. He could already feel frustration ebbing into his resolve. Cool it. Ammo, medicine, Dean, Cas — that was the priority.

He finished shuffling through the first house on the second row, throwing open remnants of drawers and closets. Still no luck. He rushed to the next, and the next, and the next.

Ten minutes.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath, and assess his surroundings. Which houses would have more supplies? He skipped the fourth row, seeing as all that remained was flattened charcoal, and finally caught sight of a taller building through the fog. It looked to have been saved from the worst of the village fire. The roof had caved in and only a few bits of wood was left for walls — but it remained standing. It looked like it would’ve been important before catastrophe befell the town. Sam would take his chances.

He made his way towards it, keeping an eye on the tall surviving timber as he wove through the alleys. He glanced down at the charm on his wrist, the cool metal glinting. Sam was glad the magic seemed to be working, they had encountered no monsters so far besides the Uktena and he wasn’t really interested in wasting their time on simple matters. Who knew how long it would be before Cas was lost to them completely… how long until he could no longer discern friend from foe. Sam tried to chase the thought away. But Cas had almost _killed_ Dean! It had been a close call, and Dean had still gotten seriously injured. A lump formed in Sam’s throat as he remembered it — seeing Dean, dangling, helpless. It could’ve been _so_ much worse, and Sam knew the worst couldn’t be far off. It was only a matter of time until… They just needed to kill the witch — and fast.

The black dirt under his feet crunched as he finally approached the entrance. The door was roughly intact as he pushed through the wooden mess at his feet. The inside of the building seemed to have survived the worst of the fire, furniture was still recognizable and Sam quickly busied himself shifting through them. Box after box he looked through until he finally noticed a tall cabinet at the end of the large room. Small vials and glasses filled with liquids and plants of some sort lined the shelves, Sam immediately perked up.

“Please have something, please have something,” he murmured as he scanned the cabinet. The bottles were conveniently labeled in an old fashion script. “Lady ferns, poppies, sage, eucalyptus oil....” Sam ran his finger along the aisle, letting out a triumphant sigh of relief as he recognized the medicinal plants. He snatched up a handful and turned to run back to the house.

He stopped half way out the door, an odd shape passing over his peripheral vision. The hair on his neck pricked up as he took a slow step back. Sam was surprised he hadn’t seen it as soon as he entered the building, a dirty canvas draped over an odd lump in the far corner. Red stained the cloth — and a small hand could be seen protruding from under the sheet. Fuck.

Sam quickly tucked the vials into his pockets, adjusting the grip on his gun as he stepped over various debris. As he crossed into the room, a breeze ruffled the sheet. The hand was further revealed, limp in the pale moonlight with a small silver band adorning the ring finger. The smell of decay finally reached his nose, and Sam held back a cough. The hand looked delicate and smooth as marble, almost beautiful, if it hadn’t been for the smell. Sam reached out, slowly dragging the sheet back, making sure to cover his mouth.

He took a sharp breath, “Oh no…”

Sam’s face fell as he stared down at the corpse, the woman’s hair splayed out on the wooden table she lay on. Her body lay curled around a smaller bundle, a thin linen dress covering her slightly ballooning from the breeze and the bloating. Although the process of decomposition had obviously taken hold, her skin green and thin, no worms or maggots were present, her form left mostly untouched.

No matter how many people he had watched die, how many bodies he’d seen, Sam would never get over the feeling of sadness and loss upon seeing a person who was no longer there. The simple fact that their life had been so brutally cut short always stuck with him. Him, Dean, and Cas — they all knew the risks of their lifestyle and were always ready to die. But these people, they had hopes, they had dreams, unburdened by the awful truth of death. The Winchester family, they were supposed to protect them, to put their lives at risk, so that others could live theirs.

Sam peered closer at the woman’s bundle, a jacket wrapped tightly around a tiny thing and held close to her chest… Sam had a sinking feeling he knew what it was. Tears stung his eyes when he saw that he was right. A small face could be seen, pressed against their mother’s chest, eyes closed as if in slumber.

Sam’s face twisted in anger. He threw the sheet back over the corpses, a rage burning deep in his veins. He took deep breaths, huffing them back out through his nose. Finally after pacing back and forth several times, he sighed and rested a hand over his eyes. He felt sick.

The witch had done this. _She_ had killed these people!

Sam forced himself to look back at the women’s hand, lying still. He stared at the ring on her finger, and it finally clicked. “Blake’s wife…”   Sam muttered, he was sure of it. No other bodies were as fresh. She and her child must’ve been the most recent victim.

He sighed again, gently pulling the sheet completely over them. He stood thinking for a moment, fishing in his pockets among the vials until he finally found what he was looking for. Sam flipped open the lighter, watching as the flame sprung to life and danced in the moonlight, warming the cold atmosphere.

“You deserved better,” Sam said to the room, “I’m sorry. This is the least I can do for you.” The building would surely burn as well, but Sam didn’t care. This place was cursed anyway.  He raise his hand, preparing to throw down the flames onto the crumbling wood of the table.

A growl drew Sam’s attention. A rustle and the cutting of a silhouette through the slots of the wall made his eyes go wide. Shit. His eyes tracked the shadow as it sped silently around to the other side of the building. It stopped, crouching down to sniff at the ground. Sam could see clawed hands and pointed ears in the dim light, and hear it’s rugged breath as it sniffed loudly. Sam easily recognized the creature. Wendigo.

Sam didn't move, the lighter still in his hand. He stared at the charm on his wrist. Had it stopped working? No, it couldn’t have. How did they find him?

Another shadow joined the other and Sam was suddenly aware of his loud heartbeat. His mind raced through all the things he knew about wendigo. He stared at his lighter again, and a smirk spread across his face. He lowered the lighter and the corpses lit aflame. Sam grabbed a broken table leg from off the floor, ripping a piece off of Dean’s already ruined shirt and wrapping it around the top. He popped open one of the oil vials and poured some of the contents onto the now makeshift torch. He dipped the wood tip into the fire, now spreading across the room. Surprised roars echoed as the creatures sprung away from the growing flames.

Sam made his way out of the building, his gun in one hand and torch in the other. If wendigo were here — that meant they were all in danger, especially Dean. Another roar penetrated the air, followed by three more. There was definitely more of them. He had to make his way back and get them out before more came.

 

_________________

  


Dean’s footsteps fell lightly atop the smooth marble tiles beneath his feet. The sound echoed and disappeared among the row of tall columns, rising towards the vaulted ceiling where there lay carvings of saints and angels and heavenly things. The light that spilled forth from the stained glass windows was white and pure, mingling with the soft song that hovered in the air.

It was peaceful. Dean let himself float along as he basked in the the blissfulness of the atmosphere. Each note danced in the air, seamlessly blending into harmony and bouncing from stone to stone. Dean wanted to join them, flying and laughing and joyful, but his feet would not leave the ground. Disappointed, he continued to walk. He made his way through the pews, the empty seats buffed and polished, with no sign of use. Dean wandered through the rest of the chapel, exploring the naive and the east and west aisles. He found the rest of the church empty, he was alone with all but the stone sculptures.

Satisfied with his search, Dean went to leave through the grand wooden door — but found it locked. He frowned and shrugged, making his way back to the nave. He took a seat in front, relaxing with his back against the wood and hands folded in his lap. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. The warm smell of faded frankincense and scented candles calmed him, lulling him to sleep alongside the echoes of the choir.

Dean stayed there for an indistinguishable amount of time, his mind going blank as he dozed. Then, he woke up. He looked around to see what had startled him awake but saw nothing. The choir had stopped. Instead small voices could be heard approaching from behind. Dean turned to see two children, a couple years apart making their way towards the front where he sat. He said nothing, but stared at their worn attire. Ripped jeans and dirtied shoes covered their legs and feet, with short sleeve shirts around their thin torsos. The smaller one wore a battered orange jacket while the older only wore a strange amulet around his neck.

“You think dad will be mad you took us here?” The small dark haired boy asked.

The older child looked down at him and laughed dryly, “Don’t worry about it, Sammy. He won’t be mad at you.”

The little boy looked up, “But what about you?”

The older boy hesitated, “Doesn’t matter.”

The small child opened his mouth to speak again but gasped instead as he turned towards the front of the chapel. The alter sat atop the raised floor, a grand gold-painted cross framed by a display of stained glass and ornately carved choir seating.

“Wow!” The boy ran closer and stopped at the steps, smiling and tipping his head back to observe all the murals and carvings on the ceiling. “How did they do that?”

“Magic probably.”

“Really? Witches built the church?!” The boy looked back with wide eyes.

“Nah, I’m just messing with ya,” the older boy smiled, “You’d be surprised how much people can build with money.”

“Oh,” the little boy looked down at his feet, his brown hair falling over his face. Then he turned back to the altar again, staring at it in awe.

“Here,” the older boy walked over to the seating next Dean, “We can sit here.” The children took a seat beside Dean, completely unaware of his presence. They all sat in silence for a few minutes, Dean watching the kids as they admired the chapel’s architecture and serenity. He observed them closely, a strange sense of deja vu picking at his brain.

The dark haired boy frowned, deep in thought. He glanced up at his brother, opening his mouth before closing it again and bowing his head. The older boy looked down at him, “What is it Sammy?”

The boy pursed his lips, sighing before looking up again. “Dean, do you believe in God?”

The older brother stared back, conflict hidden behind his eyes. He hesitated but finally said, “No… or if he does exist… he certainly doesn’t care about us.”

The little boy frowned and crossed his arms, “But you always told me mama said angels were watching over us.”

The older boy stiffened, taking a moment to compose himself. “Maybe she was wrong…”

The little boy stared at him, determined, “I don’t think so.”

The other boy nodded solemnly, smiling sadly and reaching down to ruffle his brother’s hair, “Let’s go, Sammy, before dad gets back.”

The boys got up, the older one placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He took one last look around the church before turning and walking away. Dean watched them leave, his mind screaming at him. “Sammy…” he said slowly, wracking his brain for where he knew that name. He pushed and he pushed, a small pain throbbing in his temple from the effort. He knew where and what this was, it was on the tip of his tongue...

Finally it all came back to him in a rush, he’d broken a barrier and now the flood of memories poured in anew. He remembered the house and the pain, the small comfort that had lulled him to sleep. “This is a dream…” he breathed, “a memory.”

 **_Correct._ ** A soft voice, barely audible whispered in his ear. He shot up and spun around, but found no change in his surroundings.

“If this is a dream, I shouldn’t know it’s a dream,” he reasoned aloud. “Who’s there?” he called out. His voice echoed back at him. He looked around the chapel again, the white light somehow became cold and scrutinizing. Everything was desaturated and dull, the stones sitting and watching him. “Hello!?” The hairs on the back of his neck pricked, “Who are you?”

The quiet voices grew, whispering from the front, side, behind him, crawling on his skin. Feminine, masculine, child, and adult. Voices of all languages, ranges, and tones. It was overwhelming. Dean clasped his hands over his ears, falling to his knees as the voices rang in his head. He wanted to run, hide from this but where could he go? This was all in his head.

He was on the ground now, kneeling, his eyes scrunched closed. It grew louder and louder until — “Stop!!”

It stopped and Dean took the opportunity to breathe. “Who the hell are you? — How many are you?”

**_I am one._ **

“Like hell you are!”

There was a large shift in the air, a dark wave washing over the room like a sigh. **_Your inability to comprehend my true voice is… understandable. It resonates into more than just one plane of existence, you only hear that which my frequencies translate to to human ears._ **

Dean froze, slowly opening his eyes to see himself staring back at him. A mirror had appeared below him, unexpectedly, but Dean didn’t bother to try and understand dream logic. The marble floor was still solid under his hands but the mirror remained. He stared, transfixed as the reflection shifted. He did not move. The image tilted its head, staring at him with his own green eyes.

“Cas…” he breathed, “You son of a bitch.” The image smirked at him, a foreign twinkle in his eyes. It sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He took a shaky breath, waiting for the dread to subside. He swallowed down his nervousness, “Why are you here? And how did you get inside my head?”

His reflection sighed and Dean felt the breeze wash over the chapel, making the wind howl. “ **_You think the old man’s warding can keep me out? My form, maybe, but not my mind.”_ **

Dean waited for him to continue but when he saw no answer coming he repeated, “Okay… then why are you here?”

The reflection frowned, staying quiet. Dean slowly stood, making no quick move but moving away all the same.

“ **_I’m here to tell you, Dean.”_ **

Dean paused at the genuine emotion in his voice. “Tell me what?” He stared down at his reflection as it looked up at him with worried eyes.

**_“I…  I want to show you. Please.”_ **

Dean hated everything about this. It all felt wrong and twisted. The feeling of being watched was still blaring in the back of his mind, and “Cas” wasn’t sounding like Cas. Dean already knew, he was in deep shit.

 _Adahy, please wake me up, he_ prayed.

Dean stood his ground, “Cas… are we completely alone.”

The reflection shook his head, “No.”

“Okay,” Dean let out a shaky breath, “And Cas… are you completely you right now?”

The reflection’s expression change, his green eyes liquefying and going wide.

“No…” Cas whispered.

Without any warning, the mirror moved, surging forward, water sloshing in the mirror as the form broke free of the glass. Dean jumped away and felt his back hit an invisible barrier. He froze, eyes wide as the wet form moved towards him, the water somehow still swirling around the lower torso of the figure, whose face was now hidden by the surrounding darkness. The figure stopped an inch from Dean’s face. He stared as the dark cleared, and suddenly Cas was there, as he’d always known him. Dark hair, blue soulful eyes, and a face so pure, Dean couldn’t help but stare. He was bare chested, the water still swirling silently around his form, pale and smooth as stone in the white light.

Dean was captivated, his dread ebbing away as the angel stared at him with a sorrowful gaze. “Dean…” Cas raised his hand. Dean’s breath caught as the hand brushed his cheek, resting on the side of his face. It was warm. He sighed contently and closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. He raised his own hand, placing it over Cas’s to solidify the touch. It’d been too long without him. “Dean… I’m sorry.” It was the break in the angel’s voice that made Dean open his eyes.

“Why Cas?”

His blue eyes filled with emotion, “I’ve hurt you — and I will hurt you again… Dean, I don’t want to.” He sounded small, like a scared child. Dean couldn’t help it. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Cas, pulling him as close as he could.

“It’s okay. Shhh, Cas it’s okay.”

“But it’s not,” Cas whispered, burying his head in Dean’s shoulder, “I know what she wants, I know what she’ll do… and I know what she wants me to do to you… I don’t want to.”

Dean took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of rain and ozone. “It’s okay, Cas. I’m gonna make it okay.”

Dean felt the flutter of Cas’s eyelashes on his skin, “It’s too late for that…”

“It’s not too late.”

“End me, Dean — before I end you.”

“No —”

“I won’t be mad, you’ve given me everything. I’m just glad to have known you, Dean Winchester.”

“Cas, don’t.  Please don’t,” It was Dean’s turn to whisper, clutching Cas tightly, “Come on, what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Cas pushed back slightly, looking Dean straight in the eye. His gaze was hard and calculating, like jaded sapphire. But then, it softened. A brief, relieved smile decorated his face as he stared into Dean’s soul. He glanced down, moving forward hesitantly until Dean could feel the breath on his lips. Cas glanced up, catching Dean’s eye. Dean couldn’t move, captivated. Not moving forward, not moving back, just waiting. Then, the angel moved forward, pressing his lips against Dean’s.

It was soft, tentative and scared, with such desperation Dean wanted to cry. Dean didn’t think, mind going blank. He pressed back, opening up for Cas to dive in deeper. The angel was so warm and gentle, kissing him like he was the water of the earth and the flames of the sun. Life and death, love and despair, everything seemed to have gravitated towards this moment. For once in Dean’s life, he believed in fate.

Castiel slowly slipped away, the warmth melting like snow. Dean stared at him, stuck in a trance. “Cas?”

The angel’s touch grew colder and his face twisted in despair as he gazed upon Dean’s face. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I wish there was more time.” Cas let his fingers linger a moment longer before they slipped away. He swallowed thickly, words stuck to his throat. Then in a rush he blurted out, “Dean I —”

The last words were lost as Dean felt himself falling, suddenly tipping forward towards the mirror. He fell into the dark water with a splash, the freezing darkness snapping him out of the moment. He panicked, fighting upward as the black threatened to drag him down. He burst from the water with a gasp, crawling out and sprawling onto the hard ground. His eyes refocused above him, and he saw there the same carvings that had just been there before. He stared up in shock, his mind whirling, short circuiting at this new _thing_ that was so revolutionary and daunting that he could scarcely comprehend anything else. But there was no time to process it. His dread returned full force, trickling down his spine and through his entire body.

He shook as he stumbled to his feet, eyes darting in every direction. He was still in the church but with one major difference — it was night. The moon shone in the windows, casting long moving shadows among the columns and statues.

 **_You’re not safe here,_ ** the angel’s voice whispered to the hollow room. **_You need to wake up. Wake up, Dean._ ** The shadows whispered, closing in and writhing like black worms.

“How!?” Dean nearly screamed as he jumped at the shadows that seemed to be crawling towards him, their hands stretching out to him.

**_She’s here, Dean. Wake up!_ **

“I _can’t!_ ” Dean yelled as the darkness grabbed at him, pulling him back to the floor, the shapes clawing and drowning him, burying him alive. “Help me!!!” He screamed, black obscuring his vision as he was dragged further into the shadows. He was swallowed by it, falling and falling with no escape, screams echoing, echoing… “SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!”

It all went quiet.

Dean quivered where he lay, hands over his face as he huddled on the floor. Dean tentatively opened his eyes, a whimper on his lips. “C-Cas?”

Dean gasped and sat up, biting down another scream as he stared at the lone figure. It was a statue, standing over him with its hooded head bowed and wings loose at its back. The stone didn’t move, but Dean was terrified. He stood up, watching it closely. He inched forward, despite all reason. “Wake me up,” he whispered, hoping someone would hear, “Wake me up!”

The statue’s eyes flared blue momentarily and as Dean suspected it would, it finally began to move. He stayed his ground, watching it stretch out its hand. This time the touch was icy cold. “Please, please. Sam, Adahy.” The stone moved fast as lightning and suddenly he couldn’t breathe, the hand on his throat lifting him from the ground. It bent down to him, turning its smooth face to him, its mouth opening to omit a horrible white light. Dean couldn’t speak, but he watched in horror as it drew closer, raising him higher to see him eye to eye.

A sharp pain wracked his chest and he gasped, clinging to the stone’s arm. It’s other hand was on his chest, pressing harder and causing his mouth to fall open as he struggled to breathe. As soon as he did, his horror multiplied tenfold. He felt something, something moving in him that he knew was not a physical part of his being, but a part of him nonetheless. He was taken aback, unable to fight it in his surprise.

More light filled the dark room but Dean couldn’t see the source, all he knew is that he felt himself being split in twain, a ripping white noise filling his mind, so overwhelming that he could see nothing but the face of the stone angel, and the new light making its way towards it.

_Wake me up!!_

As the light grew brighter, Dean felt more disconnected. He was floating far away, further and further from everything he’d ever known.

_SAAAAAAM!_

 

_________________

 

_Bang!_

The gunshot rang out as Sam ran through the houses, dirt flying under his feet. A dark shape fell into the gravel somewhere behind him as he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, growls sounding too close for comfort. Bracing himself, Sam twisted around and swung his torch as hard as he could. It hit its target with a satisfying thunk, sparks momentarily lighting up the twisted face and yellow fangs. Sam ran faster.

His breath was loud in his ears, catching in his throat. The growls were louder now, more angry. He’d lost count how many of them there were. They were everywhere, leaping from house to house, nothing more than blurs across his vision. How were there so many? He kept going, turning sharply down another alley.

He knew he could never outrun the wendigo, but he could outsmart them. He took another sharp turn, running straight into the nearest house and slamming the door shut. He slammed his back against the door, putting all his weight on it and trying to keep his breathing quiet.

Sam took a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell of ash and the crackle of distant fire from the already alighted building. He took in the room and down at his torch, already dimming, the fabric disintegrating as the oil burned. “Dammit,” with a growl of frustration, Sam shoved the gun back in his jeans and took out the vial of oil again, feeding more of it to the flame. He didn’t want to use it but he had to. He just needed enough for Dean when he got back.

A thud and the scratch of claws against the door made Sam jump. More scratches followed along the parameter of the house, the creatures feeling for an opening. He had to do this quick. Sam eyed the small ladder in the corner of the room leading up to a crumbling second floor.

“Okay,” he breathed, bringing the torch up to hold between his teeth, “One, two… three.” Sam shot for the ladder, jumping to the highest wrung possible and grabbing it with both hands. His feet struggled to find the lower wrung but stuck just as the door was blown off its hinges with a loud crack. He climbed as fast as possible, arms burning as he dragged himself onto the upper floor. He spit the torch onto the floor, grabbing it as he counted five wendigo dash into the room below. He stayed utterly still, their growls and sniffing echoing below his feet. Then, as quietly as he could, he stepped towards the window on the other side of the room.

The light from it opened up to a slight overview of the small town. From here he could see the flames growing. The building had finally started to crumble as it burned once again, this time serving as a grave and not a home. The trees still smoked in the distance, like incense sticks stuck into the dry ground, but Sam had no time to stare at the further destruction that was being wrought. It was only a matter of time before the wendigo figured it out.

He stepped further, willing for the thin boards not to squeak under his weight. He held his breath, making his way, step by step towards the window. If he was quiet enough, he might be able to make it down and get some distance before they caught his scent again. Then he could get back to the house and warn Dean and Adahy.

But would Dean be able to move fast enough? The thought struck him and he cursed himself. He could draw a protective circle around them, but they would still be surrounded. Maybe he shouldn’t go back.

No. He had promised Dean he’d come back — otherwise Dean’d come looking for Sam himself, which would certainly get him killed. Dammit, he had to go back.

 _Focus Sam, focus,_ he chided himself. The breeze from outside wafted into the room, blowing through the room and down below. _Shit._ Sam heard the sniffing and frustrated growls grow louder. He hastened his steps until he finally reached the window pane. He sighed in relief and swung a leg over the edge.

There was a split second when Sam realized the hair on his neck pricking up. A creak above him drew his gaze upward. His eyes went wide as his view is filled with glowing eyes and yellow teeth. A roar rang in Sam’s ears as claws grabbed at his shirt and flung him backwards.

The torch flew out of his hand as his back slammed against the floor. He barely had time to catch his breath before the great shadow in the window crawled in, claws scraping the wood and breath permeating the air.

Sam automatically reached down to grab his gun — and found it gone. He looked around, panicking as the creature crouched down, tensing. Then he spotted it, lying next to his torch, a meter away, having slid out of his jeans when he’d hit the floor. Without hesitation, he leapt for it. The wood beneath him bent dangerously as another weight left the boards simultaneously. What felt like a cannonball barreled into Sam, crashing him into the lone support beam. Claws dug into his legs and neck as the creature held him down. Sam stared up at it, saliva dripping from its fangs as it examined him, judging where to bite first. Apparently, it was the shoulder.

In a flash, long teeth sank into the flesh of his left deltoid. Sam yelled, clawing at the wendigo’s face. It swiped his hand aside and bit down again. Sam couldn’t help the cry that was  ripped from his throat, arching his back off the floor and slamming his fist into the floorboards. He heard a small clunk as his hand hit the floor. Glancing over, he saw the torch, mere centimeters from his hand. Reaching for it, he wrapped his hand around it and swung it over, smashing it into the wendigo’s head. The creature released him, stumbling to the side, but still hovering over him. It quickly recovered, turning to hiss at him and leap for his throat. Sam reversed his grip, taking the sharp unlit end of the torch and driving it upwards. It sank into the wendigo’s eye socket, spurting a mess of red as it’s roar turned shrill.

With a triumphant grimace, Sam gave another hard push. There was a loud crack as the torch broke through the socket and into it’s skull. The wendigo immediately went limp, falling to the side to crash onto the floor.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath, trying to ignore the flaming pain in his shoulder. The noise below him had become an uproar. He could already hear the other wendigo trying to climb the walls and ladder. Biting his lip until it bled, Sam rolled over and momentarily released the torch to pocket his gun. Once he’s sure it’s secure, he rose, scooping up the torch and standing over the body of the wendigo. “Who said wendigo need to be killed by fire,” he huffed to himself. He stared at the torch, then back at the wendigo and took note of the rucus of more trying to fight their way to him. Acting quickly, he put the torch in his mouth once again and dragged the wendigo over to the ladder with his good arm.

He took the torch and lowered it. The wendigo’s body begins to burn, flesh sizzling and spreading until it was one hunk of flame. A claw of another wendigo reached up from the gap in the floor and Sam met its eyes before placing his foot atop the burning husk. “Eat this, bitch.” He kicked the body and it tumbled down on top of the other wendigo scrambling to reach him. Their growls became screams as they too caught fire, running around frantically and spreading the flames like embers among dry grass.

Sam finally ripped his gaze from the site and returned to the window. This time, he dropped down, landing ungracefully onto the ground. Holding his shoulder, he ran, ignoring the smoke as the whole house caught fire.

He kept running and running, determination moving him forward when he finally heard the return of howls. He was almost there, just one alley more. He forced his legs to move faster, blood pounding and muscles burning.

Sam burst through the door, slamming it open and stood panting in the doorway. “Adahy! Adahy we need to —“ Sam froze. Adahy was kneeling on the floor, shaking a screaming Dean. His brother was curled on his side, visibly shaking and muttering nonsensical words.

“Dean!” Sam ran forward, grabbing Dean's shoulder and taking Adahy’s place. “What happened!?”

“He fell asleep — I let him be but then he started calling for help and yelling. I don’t know…”

Sam shook his brother harder, taking Dean’s face in his hands, forgetting his shoulder. “Dean! DEAN!”

Dean’s expression was set in a grimace, furrowed brows beaded with sweat and breath coming far too fast. “Sam! SAM!”

“Dean! I’m here — wake up!” Sam slapped his face hard, but Dean just flailed and grabbed his wrists in a white-knuckles grip.

A howl from outside whipped Sam’s head around. Adahy grabbed his shotgun, meeting Sam’s wide eyed gaze. “What is it?”

“Wendigo! Lots of them,” Sam said, “Do you know how to draw an Anasazi circle?”

Adahy huffed, pulling out a white rock from his pocket, “Like I said, I know more than you think.” Sam stared at the rock curiously. Adahy shrugged, “Talc works just as well as chalk. Now wake your brother, I’ll deal with the wendigo.”

“Help —“ Dean was cut off as a shudder coursed through his body. Sam twisted his hands out of Dean’s hold and returned them to his face.

“Dean, come on! Not now! It’s just a nightmare. Please Dean, please.”

His brother returned to his babbling, voice quiet now and distant. “Get up, get up!” Sam yelled, panicking as the hair on his neck started to prick again. Suddenly Dean shuddered and his eyes flew open. Sam stopped, his body filling with horror as he stared at his brother’s flat expression and glowing blue eyes. The glow filled the room, cutting sharp shadows and bleaching the small space, pouring out of the open doorway. This wasn’t just a nightmare.

“Fuck!” Sam finally yelled, not knowing what to do. He kept shaking Dean, tears pricking his eyes as fear for his brother grew.

“What’s happening?” Adahy yelled from behind him. Sam glanced up to see the old man staring wide eyed, “The light will bring them here!”

“ _I don’t know!!_ Keep drawing the circle!” Sam frantically gripped his brother’s shoulders in a death vise and brought him to his chest, hugging him with shaky arms. “Dean… if you can hear me, I’m right here. Fight whatever this is, please… I’ll be here when you wake up.” Dean immediately clutched at Sam, breathing rapidly and exhaling sharply into his ear. Sam gasped at the cold of Dean’s skin, it turning paler and paler by the second.

“Dean,” Sam stared into Dean’s face, twisted in pain and eyes still eerily bright, “God Dean, please.”

“Wake him up!” Adahy yelled as the sound of movement and snarls reached their ears. He scratched faster at the wood, rushing to finish the rest of the warding.

“I’m trying!”

The old man met his gaze with a calculating eye. After a moment, he continued, “Press on his wound.”

“What?!”

“The physical pain might be enough to bring him back to this world! Quickly!” Reluctantly, Sam pushed Dean back onto the ground and lifted up his shirt, exposing the raw skin there.

Sam took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily. “Sorry Dean.” Gathering himself, Sam grit his teeth and dug the palm of his hand into the burn. Dean screeched, Sam flinching as the sound pierced his eardrums. But the glow of Dean’s eyes flickered momentarily before returning to their full brightness. Sam dug harder and ignored the cacophony of screaming.

“I-It’s working!” Sam said as the glow subsided gradually, receding further until it was just a pinpoint of light behind his pupils. It grew smaller and smaller until — Dean gasped.

His back arched up before crashing back down onto the floor. Dean blinked rapidly, eyes darting around as he swallowed air like a fish out of water, focus and recognition returning to his gaze until it finally landed on Sam. He calmed, panting slightly as his expression filled with surprise and relief. “S-Sam?” Dean’s voice was weak and Sam watched as his brother’s eyes filled with joyful tears.

“Dean!” Sam wrapped his brother in his arms once more and this time Dean hugged back. “What the hell man! What happened?! Are you okay?”

Dean took shaky breaths, squeezing his eyes tight and pressing his face into Sam’s good shoulder like a scared child. “She — she almost got me…”

Sam frowned, “What? She can’t —“

“She was in my head Sam, they both were. And Cas… Cas didn’t kill her — I thought he could win but she… I don’t know.” Dean swallowed, “ I couldn’t move.” He spoke softly, “I didn’t know what was happening… Sam I’m — I’m scared. They almost had me,” he shuddered, “I don’t know what they wanted — I don’t know what they were trying to take, I…” Dean stopped to catch his breath, taking long uneven breaths through his nose until he finally spoke again with a shaking voice, “... what’s happening to me?”

Sam couldn’t answer, all he could do was hug Dean tighter. He still doesn’t know what happened or what Cas had done, but he knew that whatever the witch was planning, it would end with Dean.

“Sam!” Adahy’s gruff voice brought Sam back to reality. He looked up to see the old man standing close to him, within the lines of the finished warding. “What do we do?” Worry lingered in his gaze, looking from outside to Dean lying limp with his eyes closed.

Sam opened his mouth to speak but stopped short. Both Adahy and Sam turned, listening. “Do you hear that?” Sam whispered. Adahy nodded, not daring to speak. Everything outside had gone quiet.

“Sam,” Dean asked quietly, “What’s going on?”

“Wendigo,” Sam leaned down to speak into his ear.

“How many?”

“Too many.”

Dean glanced outside, scouring the night for any signs of life. Finally he sighed in resignation, “I’m gonna have to run, aren’t I?”

“Most likely.”

Dean bowed his head, “Okay… but if I can’t catch up… don’t wait for me.”

Sam didn’t respond but lifted his brother up until he was standing, leaning against his side. Sam ignored the pain that throbbed in his left shoulder, placing Dean's arm over it to half carry him.

“We have to get out,” Dean said, “These wendigo are probably with her. Remember what Chu’a said?”

“Most monsters are loyal to her, yes I remember. You think she called them?”

Dean paused, “I know she did… G-got a plan?”

“No,” Sam admitted.

“Okay,” Dean chuckled dryly, “Then we’ll wing it.”

Sam swallowed, anxiety building with the prolonged silence. He stayed silent a while longer, hearing only Dean’s heavy breathing. “What are they waiting for?” He finally growled in frustration.

“For us to leave,” Adahy answered, shotgun resting in his hands, “Or for her to arrive.”

Dean shuddered against Sam’s side, hissing and squeezing his eyes shut. “Dean?”

“We — we just need to go.”

“Is Cas…” Sam asked hesitantly.

“He’ll blast this place to hell… he doesn’t have a choice,” Dean's voice softened, gaze growing distant.

Sam’s brow furrowed, “Dean, what happened… what happened in the dream?”

“Nothing…” Dean kept quiet, his eyes focused on the dark in front of him, “Nothing you need to know now.”

Sam nodded and took a deep breath, mind whirring as he planned. They could do this. They would survive — they had to, for Cas and for the thousand of others that were trapped here. And for Dean.

Sam glanced over at his brother, observing his pale features, worried and confused expression… the tired dullness in his eyes, the dried blood speckled across his face and the shaking of his limbs as he held onto Sam’s shoulder. Dean couldn’t go on like this for much longer.

“Dean, we’ll get out of this — I promise, all of us,” Sam whispered under his breath.

Dean smiled gently, finally turning to face Sam, “Of course we will, we always do.”

Sam nodded, trying and failing at a genuine smile. “Okay then… you ready?”

Dean chuckled, “Guess I have to be.” Sam looked over to Adahy, who nodded.

“I’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

Sam let out a long slow breath, and with finality, picked up his torch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas's true voice was inspired by Dormin from "Shadow of the Colossus" - so if you'd like a better idea of what i was imagining, that's the closest I can compare it to


	7. Stiyu ale Dodadagohv i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to run...

**You really love him, don’t you?**

**_How did I not see it before?_ **

**Emotions aren’t always so clear. It’s hard  to recognize fire if you’ve always been burning.**

**_I’ve loved him for so long._ **

**Always you’re shining star, you’re only goal.**

**_I love him like the sea loves the moon._ **

**Always pulling you closer, if you give in you’ll drown.**

**_No, I won’t drown — I’ll swim._ **

**He’ll be your undoing. You — as old as the stars and powerful as the stones of the earth. Don’t let him chain you — fly free!**

**_Why reveal the truth to try and rip it from me? With him I am truly free. Heaven cannot hold me any longer._ **

**He will hold you — why fly to your jailor?**

**_He will hold me yes… but he will not force me there. I could leave, but I choose to stay._ **

**Foolish — always so foolish.**

**_You reach for the stars but I swear to you there are just as many wonders here on earth. Love —_ **

**Who needs love!? Love burns, love kills. I survive on my own. I LIVE because I chain myself to no one!**

**_Then you are not alive._ **

**Hahaha how wrong you are! Doesn’t matter, you threw away your freedom by coming here with them.**

**_I will kill you, and I will make sure you suffer._ **

**Not before you kill him — you were so close. His light was so bright, so sweet. Too bad you didn’t take it. The other one woke him.**

**_I won’t let you have him. Do you not have enough souls?_ **

**Never enough, there is no limit to power, to strength… his is the strongest I’ve seen.**

**_You’re a monster._ **

**So what if I am? You soon will be too.**

**_Don’t make me do this, don’t make me do this…_ **

**All things human die, all earthly things rot — but we… we will live on, the immortals we are.**

**_Please._ **

**Fly bright one, you know him, you know his heart. Bring me to him.**

 

_________________

 

**October 13: 1:17 pm**

The night is still quiet as they step out of the protective circle. Adahy lead, Sam’s torch in hand as Sam helped hurry Dean along, struggling to catch up.

They didn’t bother being silent, boots scuffing and kicking up dirt as they ran as fast as they could. The wendigo already knew where they were, if they wanted to pounce, they could.

“Do we know where we’re going?” Sam panted as he kept a hold of Dean’s shirt.

“The church,” Adahy said, “That’s the safest place, most fortified. And your supplies should be there, no?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah. If it’s still there — shit.” Sam grabbed Dean under the arm as his brother tripped over his own feet.

“Sorry. Slowing you down,” Dean's words were slurred and slow, “Should leave me.”

“Like hell we are!” Sam nearly shouted.

“Shush!” Adahy snapped, “Listen.” They paused for a moment, fully aware of the yellow eyes watching them and the sweat dripping from their brows. Only a slight breeze briefly relieved them of their burning anxiety.

A sharp intake of breath made Sam look down at his brother, eyebrows raised in question. “Wind’s picking up,” Dean murmured. Sam turned his head towards the burning horizon and closed his eyes.

A steady rhythm beat on the air, an echoing that ruffled his hair with every woosh of the wind. “Not the wind,” he whispered. Dean shuddered against his side and Sam gripped him tighter.

“Please don’t…” Dean said quietly.

“Don’t what?” Sam asked, eyes fluttering down.

“Don’t hunt him. I know he failed, but he tried — he’s tried so hard, he always has. He doesn’t deserve any of this. I should’ve let him go… shouldn’t have brought him here.” A lump formed in Sam’s throat, his eyes stinging without help from the fumes of fire permeating the air. “If I die Sam… leave him be. Just make sure no one else gets hurt.”

“You don’t deserve this either,” Sam said, pausing, “None of us do.” He looked over at Adahy who was watching them with sad, wizened eyes. “But I promise… I promise.”

Dean nodded, smiling sadly, “Good… good.” He let out a long breath, “Now let’s get going before these sons of bitches decide to eat my fine ass.” Sam huffed, a rare smile pulling at his features. Of course his brother would joke at such a time.

They pushed forward, through the maze of houses, growls echoing from every direction, teasing them as long shadows followed in their footsteps. The gleam of dull skin reflected the firelight as the path progressed, just beyond the perimeter of light.

“Why aren’t they killing us?” Sam asked as giant void eyes stared at him though the darkness.

“They follow her orders,” Adahy continues walking, “She mustn’t have wanted them to kill us.”

“Well they tried to kill me,” Sam retorted.

“Maybe it’s not you they want alive,” Adahy nodded at Dean still bound to his brother.

“Why?” Sam suddenly asked with vehemence, “Why Dean!?”

“Why Dean indeed.”

“You guys, I’m right here.”

“I’m aware,” Sam hissed as he attempted to pick up the pace, his shoulder still bleeding and pulsing painfully.

“You good?” Dean eyed Sam with worry.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“So are you! Now’s not the time!” A loud hiss from the shadows emphasized that fact, laughing at their desperate efforts.

“They’re just letting us go.”

“Because she wants them too,” Adahy restated with a hint of annoyance, “Let us hurry.”

Adahy led the way, torch in hand and lined face unphased by the chaos around him. He avoided the faces that teased and mocked him. Faces of old comrades and friends that had turned and endured their bodily imprisonment for as long as he’d been residing in these hills. Silently, he began humming a now ancient prayer.

His soft voice was a small comfort as they made their way, and Sam and Dean asked no more questions. Persisting, going onward, that’s all they could do.

The church’s mounted cross finally broke through the trees, silhouetted in the everlasting moonlight. The orange lanterns came into view and with them, a hoard of glowing eyes, standing menacingly along the path.

Adahy had no hesitation as he approached, raising the flames to the creatures faces and causing them to cower. They bowed against the fire, shielding their eyes with clawed hands but didn’t move aside. Adahy swung at them, wood striking one’s arm. It’s skin sizzled slightly and it shrieked before baring it’s elongated teeth and gaping maw. Adahy jumped as it swung back at him, nearly knocking the torch from his hand.

“Adahy!” Sam grabbed the old man’s sleeve, pulling him out of the way as another wendigo lunged at him from the side. The wendigo latched onto the torch, claws barely missing his arm. Adahy gasped, trying to pull the torch from the creature’s grasp but with a firm tug, it was ripped from him. They watched in shock as the wendigo bit the torch in half, throwing the remnants onto the ground with a roar.

The flame shriveled, leaving them in complete and utter darkness.

“No, no, no,” Sam muttered frantically as he clutched both Adahy and Dean. There was a rolling murmur, a guttural laugh from the unseen mass of monsters. Then they closed in. Everywhere there was claws and teeth, shouting as they tried to find each other in the mass. But they were pinned, drowning in a sea of bodies. They had lost.

_________________

 

Dean was shouting, thrashing and fighting with energy he didn’t have. “Come on you creepy looking assholes! It’s me you want!” But it didn’t matter. Sam was gone, Adahy was gone, and Dean was left staring up into a gaunt face with glowing eyes and a hungry mouth. Dean shut his eyes, waiting for them to tear into his throat, praying Sam and Adahy would get away somehow but —

“AG!” A voice rang above the sound of the wendigo. Dean froze. “AG, PAR BIAB OZIEN!” The familiar chill of magic ran down his spine, accompanied by a dreadful twist in his gut as he recognized the voice.

Silence fell. The wendigo all turned to face away from the church, staring at the dark silhouette upon the path. Dean could see from between their twisted bodies as the figure moved, dirt crunching under the soles of his shoes. No one made a sound as the feet approached. The wendigo parted, allowing him to pass through like water through a stream. Dean didn’t move, watching as he got closer and closer, cold eyes burning into him. They looked yellow now, concealing the serene blue and joining the gleam of the wendigo, glowing with an unnatural light.

The wendigo backed away, releasing Dean but he barely noticed.  The figure paused in front of him, looking down on him with that familiar tilt but with a stranger's eyes. “Well now,” Castiel’s voice sighed with a foreign tone. He knelt down with a chilling smile, “Finally gotten you haven’t I?”

Dean stared, a war of emotions raging in him. Dean had missed seeing his friend’s face, the one he’d learned to know: the curve of his jaw and the lines of his eyes, but it was wrong, all wrong. The dream rose to the surface of his memory and he felt a pain in his chest, a tug at his heart and the desire to reach out again, find Cas’s grace, hold him close and never let him go. Tears pricked his eyes but he held them in check. Cas was in there, watching through a stranger’s mask. Dean felt the urge to tell him all that needed to be said, all that Cas deserved to hear, but knew he couldn’t. The witch was there, a barrier between them, between what could and could not be.

The witch saw his conflict through Cas’s eyes and she laughed. “Awww,” she cooed, “Was his little confession really that touching? Beautifully tragic isn’t it?” She raised a hand, stroking a finger down Dean’s cheek. Dean’s whole body tensed, his eyes glued to the witch, watching her sick puppeteering act. She chuckled and leaned closer. Dean knew it was coming, but he still gasped and tried to push away as lips locked onto his. “Oh please,” the witch smiled, grabbing a handful of Dean’s hair, forcing him to face her, “You want this — you both do.” The hand in Dean’s hair tightened painfully and he winced. She leaned in again, this time trailing harsh kisses down his neck. Dean felt he might be sick. He grasped at her hand, trying to pry her fingers away but they held firm. “Oh what's this?” Her mocking voice dripped with sarcasm as her free hand lifted his shirt, now wet with blood again. Dean couldn’t look, his head held in place but suddenly his burn flared as fingers dug into the injured flesh. He screamed, the pain turning his vision white. As soon as it started, it stopped and all he could hear was his breathing, the witch’s voice muted as he let out a whimper. “Oh love burns doesn’t it?” Her’s — Castiel’s breath brushed his ear.

“L-Let him go!” Dean bit through his teeth.

“Hm… no,” She feigned a pause, “He’s mine now — you took too long. Should’ve bound him to you while you had the chance.”

Dean glared at her, all his hatred and rage directed into his gaze. “I will kill you,” he hissed, then spit in her face.

She sighed, briefly closing her eyes before wiping the spittle from her — his face. She wiped her hand on Cas’s coat, “Oh no you won’t sweetie.” Abruptly, she stood, hand still in Dean’s hair. Dean cried out, flailing as she dragged him bodily though the dirt and past the circle of wendigo. His eyes watered, the urge to fight worsening the pain as he struggled.

“TELOC ADAGITA A PAGE!” Castiel’s voice shouted above him.

Teloc… the word jarred Dean's memory. He gasped, “NO! NO YOU LEAVE THEM ALONE!”

“You shouldn’t worry about them — it’s you who’ll have the worst fate.”

“SAM! ADAHY!”

The witch tisked her tongue with annoyance, “Keep screaming, no one will hear you.” Dean felt wood scraping along his back and jarring his spine as he was dragged up what had to be stairs. “By Tochopa, you’re a fighter aren’t you?” Dean was thrown down onto the floor. He coughed, his throat dry, hoarse and mingled with a sick metal taste. He didn’t want to move, he just wanted to lay down and lose consciousness — let the darkness take him. He was tired, so damn tired.

He forced his eyes open, seeing the wrong yellow ones come into focus. He couldn’t stop, not now with Cas so close, he just wanted to reach out. As if in answer, the familiar warm flow of grace washed over him, placating his aching mind and body. He didn’t fight it, readily grabbing the thread and knotting it tight.

_ Don’t go, don’t go…  _ Dean’s half working mind rambled.

**_What are you doing!?_ ** The horror and fear in Cas’s voice shocked him.  **_SEVERE IT NOW! SHE’LL TAKE YOU!_ ** A powerful force pushed against Dean, his mind threatening to explode from the pressure.  **_Let go Dean! LET GO!_ ** Cas was desperate, the strength of his emotions flooding Dean’s mind and rendering him immobile and breathless. But he listened, he tore himself away, leaving him in shock, sputtering for air.

“Aw you couldn’t have held on a little longer? It would’ve been less messy that way,” Her false voice sounded behind him. Dean heard the smooth flick of an angel blade. “This might hurt a little.” On instinct Dean reached out above him, snagging the witch’s leg and pulling it out from under her. Castiel’s vessel crashed to the floor. “Why you little —“

Dean rolled over onto his hands and lunged. He grabbed at the blade and caught her other hand, pinning Cas — the witch under his weight as he struggled to pry the weapon away from her. The witch growled, barring Cas’s teeth, almost nose to nose with Dean. Her eyes were furious, feral. Dean struggled, face reddening, but his efforts seemed to have no effect.

The witch smirked, “He’s still an angel you know.” Suddenly Cas’s leg shot up and wrapped around his back. With a quick roll, Dean found himself pressed to the floor. “He’s stronger than you, always has been and always will be — in fact, he'll be even more so when I’m through with him.”

Dean couldn’t speak, keeping all his focus on the blade now growing closer and closer to his face. He glanced at the witch, her expression twisting Cas’s face into a cruel display of pleasure. “You’re enjoying this!”

“I very much am. It’s fun to see you try.”

Dean pushed harder, yelling in frustration as all his strength did nothing. Finally he took a deep breath, ceasing his resistance.

He let his hand drop, lying limp and staring up at Cas’s face. “Giving up?” She asked cruelly, keeping the blade raised but not attempting to end him in that moment.

“Not a chance.” Dean threw a punch. His fist collided with Cas’s jaw. It barely caused her to flinch but it gave Dean enough time to twist her wrist. The blade dropped to the floor. Simultaneously, Dean jerked his knee upward, colliding with Cas’s gut then dug a foot into his torso and kicked. Cas was flung onto his back, giving Dean time to grab the blade and stumble to his feet.

He panted, slowly backing away to support himself against the wall, blade raised. He couldn’t run, Cas was blocking the door. The angel rose with an air of annoyance, rolling his shoulders. Her stare was calculating, less amused now. “You wouldn’t kill him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“No,” Dean raised his chin, “I won’t — ever.”

“Good.”

With a flap of wings, Cas disappeared. Dean blinked in surprise, eyes flicking back and forth. After a couple seconds he relaxed, taking a step forward.

Dean cried out as a blow the strength of a truck struck the back of his legs. He fell to his knees, a hand snaking around to cover his mouth and another gripping his wrist with such force that he could no longer hold the blade. It clattered to the ground and as it did, both hands moved to wrap him in a headlock. His hands flew to the arm around his throat.

Dean tried to elbow, to claw at Cas but it was like striking a mountain. He was gasping now, air slowing leaving his lungs and unable to enter again. The witch just stayed as she was, holding him in place against Cas’s chest, strangling him.

Dean stopped struggling, knowing there was nothing he could do. His eyes watered, his vision wavering and shock spasming through his body.

“Why?” He managed to choke out, “Why me?” A huff of breath brushed the side of his face. He could feel the warmth of another body pressed against him, even as his grew colder.

“It’s obvious Dean Winchester,” her voice was soft, almost pitying, “This will break him. I can see everything. He’ll he weak, he’ll be vulnerable, which is just what I need.” She shifted, loosening her grip but placing her other hand at the back of his neck in a position Dean only knew too well.

“When I come back — I’m gonna make you wish you were never born.”

“Oh you won’t be coming back,” she grinned again, the corner of Cas’s mouth pinching upwards, “this time, you’ll be with me.”

Dean’s mind raced, trying to decipher what she meant but before he could think of anything else, she continued, “You know what the best part about this is?” Dean held his breath as he felt the muscles of Cas’s arms tense. “Hearing you both scream.” Dean closed his eyes, waiting for the snap of his own neck.

“Hey bitch!” Dean eyes flew open at the sound of Sam’s voice. Relief washed over him as his brother stood in the doorway, shirt ripped and worn with a molotov and gun in hand. Dean heard the witch gasp.

“How did you —”

“Sorry Cas,” Sam said, and threw the molotov.

Dean dropped to the floor as flames suddenly engulfed Castiel, coat aflame and an unearthly shriek ringing in his ears. He burned and burned until his vessel blackened and disappeared in a cry of fire.

Dean lay in shock, staring at where Cas —  the witch had just been. “W-What did you do to him?!” He asked, panic in his voice.

“Molotoved him with holy oil. He’ll be fine, he’ll be back soon. And good to see you too.” Sam strode over to him and offered his hand. Dean grabbed it and let his brother pull him to his feet. Keeping a hold of his brother’s sleeve, Dean took a minute to breathe.

“How?” Dean finally asked, “How’d you get out?”

“She shouldn’t have held us so close to those burning lanterns.”

Dean smirked, pride blooming in his chest. “That’s my smart little brother,” Dean raised a hand to fluff Sam’s hair but winced and lowered it. “How’d you get the molotov.”

“Oh,” Sam patted a bag Dean had failed to notice before, “I made a run to the church.”

“But —  you know what, whatever. Where’s Adahy?”

A shotgun went off outside, the sparks flashing across the opposite house.

“There —  Adahy!” Sam called. The old man came running in, claw and dirt marks marring his skin and leather vest, out of breath.

“They’re still occupied by the fire, but it’s starting to wear off. We need to go,” He looked around at the room, “Where is she.”

“Gone. For now.”

“Then let’s hurry. Sam found another way into the church. The charms should give us more time if we go around that way.” Dean nodded and let Sam wrap a supporting arm around his torso. They rushed out of the house, making their way around the house, away from their original direction.

Dean could see a bright orange light flickering from the direction of the church, and heard frustrated growls echoing in the night. “You really pissed them off didn’t you.”

Sam smirked, “We gave them hell.” Dean patted Sam’s shoulder approvingly. His brother winced and he muttered a quiet apology as they receeded further from the wendigo.

They came to the wall of mossy rocks surrounding the perimeter of the church. Sam helped Dean over while Adahy scanned the vast area behind them. Once the brothers were safely across he climbed over. The way was clear from there. Only a field of dried grass separated them from the tall building.

“Come on, almost there,” Sam encouraged as Dean's breathing grew more haggard.

“Hurry Sam! The sky!” Adahy called from behind them. Sam glanced upward to see a swirl of clouds condensing above them, angry and menacing.

“Molotov’s worn off,” Sam breathed and doubled his efforts, his muscles burning as he dragged Dean along.

A crack of lightning struck close by, shaking the earth. “Come on!” Sam yelled above the thunder. Another bolt struck, and another, drawing ever nearer.

They were close, the side door into the church only a little more than thirty feet away.

_ Crash! _

Another, larger bolt struck the ground right in front of them, lighting the grass in a flurry of sparks. Sam stumbled to a stop to avoid the lightning that was seemingly stuck in the earth, crackling and pulsing dangerously.

“Keep going!” Adahy yelled.

“I can’t!” Sam called back, “There’s fire!” The bolt pulsed even brighter, blinding the clearing in a blue blast until it dimmed into nothing.

Castiel stood amidst the growing flames, shadows flickering across his vessel’s face. His coat flared with the torrent of fire, face full of fury and rage that was unakin to anything the Winchesters had ever seen of him. He started forward.

“Cas don’t,” Sam said weakly. Him and Dean fell to the ground as Cas’s fist collided with Sam’s face.

“You’re annoying,” Cas’s voice hissed as he stood over the younger Winchester and pressed a foot to his throat. Adahy’s shotgun went off, the bullets peppering Cas’s chest. The angel didn’t react, just glaring at the old man with yellow eyes, “And you’re  funny.”

“Leave them Stikini,” Adahy lowered his smoking gun, “They do not deserve my fate.”

“Is that so,” the witch tilted Cas’s head and pressed down harder. Sam tried to hold off the weight with his hand, face reddening.

Dean crawled onto his hands and knees, meeting the witch’s gaze as she turned to him. She squinted at him, reading his face as Dean stared in horror at his brother. Smirking she said slowly, “I’ll make you a deal.” Dean froze, looking into her false eyes. “Come with me and your brother and comrade will live.” Dean averted his gaze, staring at his hands on the ground, shaking.

“What about Cas?” he spat.

“Oh, he’s not part of this deal,” she replied, looking down at Cas’s vessel.

“No deals!” Adahy yelled, grabbing her attention. “You lie. You deceive. It is your way.”

“You think you’re smart, boy?”

“I know I am far wiser than you.”

“Really? Well I know one thing,” she dropped the angel blade from Cas’s sleeve, “I’ve let you live far too long.”

“Let them go,” Adahy said calmly.

“Or what? What weapon do you have that could hurt me — that could hurt him!” She gestured to Castiel’s face then let her hand fall slowly to the side. “I am too strong to be deceived by your simple tricks. You may have been a healer’s son but your knowledge of the arts is nothing compared to mine!”

A smug expression crossed Adahy’s face, crinkling his tanned face. “Maybe not, but I know more than you think.” Lowering his gun, Adahy reached into his vest and pulled out a black book with a half moon on the cover.

The witch’s eyes widened, “How did you get that!?”

“You should’ve guarded it better.”

“The uktena,” she spat, “I’ll punish him for this!”

“You have many powerful spells in this book Stikini, quite an interesting read.”

“You can’t perform that magic,” she sneered, “It’s dark magic — too gruesome for your feeble mind.”

Adahy narrowed his eyes, “You underestimate what one will do to save those they love.” She met his gaze and slowly her expression fell. “You will leave them Stikini, and free the bright one… or I will.”

“You can try!” The witch took a step towards Adahy, releasing Sam. In a flash, purple light flared across the clearing. The brothers covered their faces, lying on the grass, cowering away from the magic and fire.

Dean heard voices shouting, both he recognized but one more shrill than usual. “Pathetic! All of you pathetic!” It was unnatural, hearing Cas’s voice reach that high a pitch. “You stupid little Havasu boy! Your spell won’t even last a minute!”

“I don’t need that long!” Adahy yelled back. Dean raised his head, moving his hands from his face and squinting through the bright light. Adahy stood behind a clear barrier, a feather held out in his hand, burning slowly. Cas’s hand was outstretched, a stream of purple lightning crashing against the liquid shield. Adahy was not looking at the witch, but rather right at him, urgency in his expression.

Dean stared back at him for a moment before it finally clicked. He was giving them time. “Sam! Sammy!” Dean grabbed his brother, “Hurry, let’s go!” Sam took one look at Adahy and scrambled to his feet with Dean. They stumbled around the perimeter of the battlefield.

Suddenly Sam pointed, “Dean! There — a gap in the fire!” Sure enough, Dean looked ahead to see a small unburnt path through the flames toward the church. They coughed as the smoke burned their lungs, until they finally began climbing the steps of the church, the fire out of reach.

Dean stopped Sam and turned, “ADAHY! ADAHY COME ON!”

The barrier was starting to fade, flickering under pressure of the opposing magic. Adahy turned to look at them, a sad smile on his face. “Go,” he said above the noise, “I’ll give you more time. Ward the church — here.” He threw the book over the flames and Dean caught it. Dean stared at it then back at Adahy, eyes wide.

“No! We’re not leaving you!”

“Dean!” Sam pulled him to the side as a spell shot past his head and collided with the wall.

“Save me and my people, I know you will. And besides… I’m tired. She’s right, I’ve lived for too long. And this won’t be our last meeting, I promise. Stiyu ale Dodadagohv i.” Adahy turned back, withdrawing another feather and spoke a few words. Another barrier appeared behind him, between him and the Winchesters.

“Adahy!” Sam called and the old man turned his eyes to them one last time. “Thank you.” Adahy nodded, and as he did, the barrier disappeared.

Cas was on him in an instant, foreign satisfaction twisting his face as she held Adahy by the collar. The witch looked up, staring Dean straight in the eyes as he watched. Something faded from her expression, the eyes dimming and stance changing. Dean recognized the hunched shoulders and blue eyes, glowing dimly with grace. Cas was staring at him, horrified.

“CAS!” He screamed across the clearing. 

Sam pulled at him, trying to get him inside, “Dean come on!”

Dean stayed where he was, throwing Sam off. “I’ll be right there — get inside! Go start the wardings!”

“Dammit Dean — let’s GO!”

Dean ignored him. Instead he stared and reached out. Cas’s touch was faint this time, cautious and soft. Dean didn’t tie the connection, but he didn’t need to.

_ Cas! Don’t - dont. _

**_I can’t stop Dean. She’s using the souls against me, you have to understand that! Souls are the most powerful things in the universe —_ **

_ How do I help you?! Cas tell me what to do! _

**_I already told you Dean…_ **

Dean couldn’t think of it, he couldn’t even imagine doing what Cas had asked of him. He’d rather die.

_ No Cas! I won’t do that! _

**_Then you’ll die too! You and Sam!_ **

A static flared across Dean's mind, threatening to numb his senses.

**_I’m sorry Dean, I’m so sorry. I love you — I’m sorry. I love you._ **

The words stuck in Dean's mind. Those three words of all things made him freeze. Sam was screaming in his ear but all he could hear were those words. He didn’t know what to say. His chest threatened to explode and the water to spill from his stinging eyes.

Then Cas’s voice went quiet, replaced by something darker. In slow motion, Cas raised his hand and placed it on Adahy’s forehead. Bright light exploded from his eyes and mouth, scream unheard over the ringing. Dean had no reaction, he just watched as the body fell and Cas stared down, unmoving.

It finally hit him that this might be the last time he saw Cas before he would be forced to murder them. Their friendship and story had built up to this moment, so close to a classic tragedy it was almost funny. Dean might never get another chance.

Hands and lips trembling, Dean spoke in a whisper, “I love you too.”

Dean could no longer see Cas’s face, the flames had climbed higher, but he saw him turn — away or towards him he didn’t know. He just hoped he’d been heard. He sent out a prayer, hoping Cas could hear then.

_ I love you. _

He heard and felt nothing as he was dragged away. The fire and Cas disappeared behind a wooden door and cold stone. Sam pulled the latch shut with a bang, locking them in the church. The sound of chaos died with Dean’s silent hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> "TELOC ADAGITA A PAGE" - Death to the rest  
> "Stiyu ale Dodadagohv i" - be strong and till we meet again (Cherokee)


	8. Fruition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bodies weary, emotions high, hope gone, the brothers must take one last stand...

 

 

**October 13: 1:50 pm**

 

Dean was vaguely aware of Sam drawing sigils over the walls in his own blood. Dean didn’t move, just sitting there watching, leaning his head against the cold stone of the church. Sam didn’t speak, his face carefully trained, but his eyes gave away his despair.

They sat in silence, no noise passed between them, only the occasional hiss as Sam touched his shoulder for more blood. Dean closed his tired eyes. They had this small respite before chaos started again. He would savor it for all it was worth.

Eventually the wards would give out, if not that then the fire would reach them. Dean just wanted it to end. He wanted to go home to his nice warm bed, cook a big meal for him and Sammy and maybe watch some cheesy chick-flick, Cas watching befuddled beside him, but staying nonetheless. He liked it when Cas stayed.

If they got out — it was an if now not a when — Dean was going to make Cas want to stay. He’d make him smile, chat with him, let him pick for movie night and then… he didn’t know what he’d do after that.

He could tell Cas how absolutely badass he was in his trueform, how beautiful. He could tell him how his wings burned like starlight and how his voice was music to Dean’s ears when he was gentle with him. He could ask about their connection… and about the kiss.

He hadn’t had much time to think about the dream since it happened. Dean rolled it over in his mind, replaying it again and again and again. One thing always stood out to him within the dream. Something he didn’t fully understand but it felt right — he’d kissed back. He hadn’t freaked out, he hadn’t frozen up. He’d let go.

Dean contemplated the idea briefly every now and again. It had been teased over the years, used to mock what he and Cas had, but could it really be the truth? Cas had said it himself , he had given everything for Dean — his wings, his life, his reputation, his image, and his grace. All of it, Dean realized, Cas had sacrificed at one point or another. He’d also sacrificed for Sam, yes… but there was always something different about the way Cas looked at him, the way he could stare into his soul and see into his mind. They didn’t need a telepathic connection to communicate then — they just understood. Had Cas known, he wondered, even then.

Dean almost chuckled. It was one of the oldest and most cliche stories in the book. It was written in every love song and myth around the world — the angel that fell for a human. And yet Dean had managed to ignore it for almost a decade. And maybe he felt something too…

Feelings were messy things.

 _I'm stupid,_ he thought, _So damn stupid._

Sam finished the last of the warding with a sigh, letting his shaky hand drop. He shuffled his way over and slid down next to Dean. They stared off, not saying a word until Sam ran a hand through his hair.

“So…” he started, voice hoarse from smoke, “Adahy’s dead.”

“Yes,” Dean confirmed silently.

“Cas killed him.”

“No,” Dean corrected, turning his eyes to Sam, “The witch did… he sacrificed himself. He knew what he was doing.”

Sam nodded, a dull look in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

Dean chuckled dryly, “Like I've been beat up by an angry angel… Like I’ve been fried inside and out.”

“How’s the burn?”

“Still burning.”

Sam sighed, slowly fishing around for something in his pocket. After a moment, he pulled out a small vial. “Ointment,” he said, “I was going to use it back at the house but… you know.”

Dean‘s lip curled into a small warm smile, “Thank you Sammy.”

“No problem,” Sam knelt down in front of Dean and carefully helped his brother take the shirt over his head.

He began to apply the oil, Dean biting his lip as it cooled on the injury. After a while, Sam cleared his throat, “So… what happened… in the house?”

Dean stared off into nothing, still able to see everything in vivid detail. He wondered how much he should tell Sam. Secrets were never good between them, but this would be mostly the truth, a little white lie… but what was the use of that? Why should he hide this now?

He began describing what had happened in a soft voice. Sam didn’t talk, just listening as he applied the oil. Dean started with the memory in the church then to the mirror, pausing when he got to Cas stepping out of the water. Sam didn’t push, just waiting for him to continue.

Dean took a deep breath, and breathed out, “He kissed me.”

Sam only paused briefly before closing the vial, never looking up. Dean continued, skipping over the rest of that interaction. He instead described the stone angel and the strange light that burned. Dean breathed deeply, a weight momentarily lifted, but it returned as silence persisted between them. Dean waited for Sam, but his brother made no response. “So? Anything?” He finally asked.

Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a while, he looked up, meeting Dean's eyes, a sad, knowing look on his face. “What do you want me to say?” His voice was soft, cracking from the smoke.

Dean swallowed, “I don’t know… what you think it means, and why Cas…” He cleared his throat, avoiding his brother’s gaze.

Sam pocketed the oil and sat down, hugging his knees to his chest. A minute passed before he spoke, “Dean… I think I’ve known for a long time… subconsciously at least. I never pushed the subject with you but… now it seems kinda appropriate.”

Dean nodded nervously, “Okay…”

“You and Cas… you’ve always been — closer. You know that right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well… I think he’s in love with you.”

Hearing it said aloud solidified the idea in Dean's mind. He’d known it the moment Cas kissed him but he hadn’t fully accepted it. How could he? It could’ve been a trick, a cruel deception to tempt him closer to his demise. Dean wiped at his nose and blinked hard. “I…” Dean paused, suppressing the quiver in his voice, “I know.”

Sam stared, Dean turning his reddened eyes to the floor. Dean couldn’t face his brother’s pity anymore.

“You knew?” Sam’s hurt tone took Dean by surprise, “And you didn’t tell him that you —“ He stopped, holding his tongue.

“Tell him?” Dean glanced up, fire kindling in his chest, flaring like the flames outside, “Why? Why tell him? Why tell him that he’s the best thing besides you that’s ever happened to me. Why tell him that it hurts like hell when he throws himself in front of every bullet coming my way! Why tell him that I can’t handle the idea of him being gone!!” Dean cut himself short, trying to soothe the ache in his chest. “I can’t tell him… because if I do… it’ll make it real… then when it ends bloody— because it _will_ end bloody — I won’t come back from that.”

It was Sam’s turn to look away, tired and resigned, “I know what you mean…” He rested his chin on his knees, hair falling into his smoke ridden face, “I still think of Jess sometimes…”

Dean sighed, resting his head back on the stone, “... she never left?”

Sam spoke softly, “She never will.”

Dean closed his eyes. He could see the crinkles of Cas’s smile, the light in his eyes. He could feel his hands, soft and tender against his cheek and the phantom taste of his lips. He could never forget the tan of his coat, the blue of his tie, the gentle rumble of his voice or the warmth of his arms. Sam was right, they never leave.

“This is it huh?” Dean chuckled dryly, “This is how we end.”

“We still have to try Dean… Don’t make Adahy’s death in vain,” Sam didn’t raise his head. Dean just hummed, whether in agreement or not he didn’t know. “There’s still a chance… Cas has a chance. Then maybe you can tell him... ”

But Dean had…  only a few moments past, spoken like embers, fighting to burn one last time, raging against the death of time. Even if the words had burned in the fire, had Dean not shown Cas for years how much he cared? But did he understand, Dean thought. Had Cas realized that all he said, all he did was because he wanted him to stay alive, to keep him safe. Maybe not with Dean, as he desperately wanted, but safe somewhere in this cruel, uncaring universe. Cas had to know. Cas had to know that Dean loved him. He could only hope…

“I’ll do what I can,” Dean resigned, “But if I can’t… you keep to your promise.”

“Of course…” Sam said, “I promised.”

They both sat silently in the church, the moonlight spilling in through the dusty stained glass windows. Cobwebs laced the pews and altar , veiling the wood like a mourning widow. It was cold and dark but for a moment, it was peaceful.

“How long do you think the wards will last?” Dean asked after a minute of the calming silence. Sam looked up at the bloody symbols on the walls. He could already see the red sizzling, an orange glow slowly eating it away.

“Half an hour at best,” he said.

“And at worst?”

“... ten minutes,” Sam sighed.

“Well then…” Dean forced a smile, slipping his shirt back over his head with difficulty, “We better plan something quick then.” It was time to don his mask again, to play his part for Sam’s sake and his.

Sam huffed, “Yeah. We have to survive a witch and Cas.” Sam paused then chuckled softly, “Which, by the way — you agree he’s a complete badass right?”

“Oh god yeah,” Dean smiled for real this time, “I’m never calling him a nerd with wings ever again.”

“Yeah,” Sam grinned, “cause he can kick your ass.”

“He can,” Dean nodded in agreement, “And he’s got the whole seraph thing going on, flaming wings and all.”

Sam smirked, “Are you saying he’s hot?”

Dean laughed, a full hearted laugh. It felt impossible to do such a thing in a situation such as this but it was something they both needed. “I am aren’t I? But don’t you dare tell him that,” Dean pointed an accusing finger.

“I swear,” Sam smiled.

“You better.” Dean attempted to stand but hissed and dropped back down again.

“Dude, what are you doing?”

“Was gonna grab the holy oil, might actually give us time if we’re in the circle you know.”

“Right, trap ourselves in holy fire. That’s you’re plan.”

“Well what else have we got?” Dean shrugged.

Sam pursed his lips, tapping them with his forefinger. Then he stood, going over to their bag and digging through it. “Holy oil, more bullets — you think witch killing bullets would work on her?”

“Probably not,” Dean sighed, “She’s too juiced up for that — but it’ll probably hurt a hell of a lot more.”

Sam nodded sharply, “So yes to witch killing bullets.”

“Definitely.”

“And holy oil for Cas?”

Dean paused a moment, taking a breath and trying to control his spiraling thoughts. “Yeah,” he whispered, “Just… be careful with it.”

“Of course… You think this’ll work? I mean — we can’t take her down now… but we can try to get  away, come up with a plan, gather supplies, maybe some more hunters.”

“And leave Cas?”

“Hey I don’t want to leave him anymore than you do — but think about this realistically. We need to _get out_. We don’t have a solid plan — that’ll just get us dead.”

Dean swallowed down his frustration. He knew it was the logical thing to do — but to leave Cas here, with the witch for god knows how long until they could come back. “We can’t leave him here alone Sam, I won’t let that happen.”

“Dean, I know it’s hard but —“

“Sam I can’t do that to him.”

“So what? You’ll just stay and die here? What good will that do?”

“I’ll _die_ with him,” Dean exclaimed, “I thought we both would!”

“Dean I know — I know you want to stay. Trust me, I understand — but you dying won’t help save Cas.”

A loud bang echoed across the large stone room. Sam eye’s shot to the sigils. “Looks like time’s up. We’ll talk about this later.” He grabbed the jar of oil and walked to the center of the nave. The pews were pushed to the side, leaving room enough to pour a large ring of holy oil. “Okay Dean, I’m gonna need you to walk over here, but first reload the guns. Can you do that?”

“Sure can,” Dean grimaced as he reached over to grab the bag and pull it over into his lap. Another bang shook the stonework, raining dust from the walls. “And pronto,” Dean added. With expert fingers, Dean slid the current clip out and clicked the new one into place. “Dude I need yours.” He held out his out his hand.

“Right,” Sam tossed his gun to Dean. They worked with lightning speed, Dean managing to stumble over to the circle by the time the fifth boom shook the church. Sam pulled out his lighter, flicking his thumb across the metal gear, sparking the small flame.

“Dean…” The flame flickered in Sam’s eyes, “If this is it…”

“No…” Dean shook his head, “No goodbyes. Whatever you have to say Sammy, I already know.”

Sam smiled gently, “Okay… same for you.”

“Good,” Dean patted Sam on the shoulder, softly this time. “Then let’s get this show on the road.” Sam nodded and dropped the lighter. The ring lit up, the flames springing to life around them as the sixth boom rang.

It reverberated through the air, humming with unseen might. The booming continued, growing stronger and closer with each quake. The air was humming, crawling under their skin. The cacophony of thunder and lightning pounded their ears.

Dean could feel it, deep in his bones. The sound coursed through him, each flare of light evoking the pain he barely kept buried. Cas’s presence was unmistakable. He knew now the heavy weight in the air, it was grace unrestrained and whole. How they would get through this, he had no idea. There was barely a plan, barely a flicker of hope. He still felt the open wound in his chest, flaying him alive. He wouldn’t tell Sam just how much it hurt, how deep it was.

It only grew deeper with each thunderclap. He didn't want it to end this way. Cas was afraid and he was afraid. He could feel the connection, this bond that intertwined their very being, grace and soul. _I don’t want this to end._

A drop of grace splashed across his mind, and Dean had to bite back tears at the shear strength of the emotions that came with it. He knew Cas cared, he knew Cas hated himself for this, but feeling it — he couldn’t take it.

Dean felt a hand grab the arm of his jacket, he looked down. Sam continued looking forward, glued to the great wooden door at the entrance of the nave. A newly formed crack ran down the middle. Dean grabbed his brother’s jacket too, finding comfort in the small gesture. They were here, they would struggle, they would fight side by side like they had for the past eleven years, together.

The wood cracked. Splinters flew across the room as the door was blown off its hinges. The brothers shielded their eyes, wood pieces nicking their hands and face. When Dean opened his eyes again, there they were.

Castiel stood in the archway of now ruined woodwork. The remaining timber bowed outward, keeling away from the the stench of rot and evil beside him. The witch stared at them with her blazing eyes, wicked smile shining with pride and delight. Her plan was almost complete.

Her stare was hungry, predatory and it was fixed on Dean. Sam’s grip tightened on his arm, his back straightening as he stepped in front of Dean, a protective fire in his eyes.

The witch ignored Sam, stepping forward and beckoning for Cas to follow. Dean was fixed on her determined glee but ripped his gaze away to look at Cas. The angel’s eyes were a vast sea of emotion. The faint firelight swam across his wet eyes, quivering in the waves of his blue. Dean had still never seen a tear slip from the angel’s face — he didn’t even know if it was possible, but he knew that if an angel could cry, it would look like this.

Dean’s lip quivered as their eyes met. The witch and Cas stopped in front of the line of holy fire. Cas’s eyes were locked onto him, his lips twisted in a grimace and a frown. “Why?” He spoke so quietly Dean barely heard, but all heads turned to the angel. “Why didn’t you kill me? I asked you to kill me!” The question was for Dean and Dean alone.

Dean’s throat was dry and he just shook his head. “You can’t ask that of me… you can’t ask me to do that to you.”

“Do that to _me_ ?! I’d rather die than do what she has asked of me! You’re _letting_ this happen to me!” Cas was shaking, visibly trembling with effort. His hands were white at the knuckles and the veins in his temple were prominent.

Of course he would play the guilt card. Cas always knew how to strike at Dean when he had to. This was desperation, Dean knew, but it still hurt. Dean tried to push it aside, mentally stopping himself from falling into the spiral of guilt and hate that was so easy to succumb to. But he would not do as Cas wanted, no matter how hard he begged, no matter how much it hurt. Cas deserved to live, who gave a shit what happened to him, but Cas… if Cas and Sam got out of this — then Dean would be satisfied. Two out of three Winchesters was good enough.

Dean closed his eyes and gathered himself before staring into Cas’s eyes again. “And do you know what would happen to me if I killed you?” A similar pain flared in the angel’s gaze but he quickly hid it. “Cas,” Dean smiled, sad wrinkles and weary lines pulling at his face, “Then I’d die anyway.”

Cas’s face fell, no longer attempting to hide the grief and the pain. His shoulders sagged and what sounded like a sob escaped his lips.  It was a heartbreaking sight and Dean wanted nothing more than to wrap his friend in his arms. “Cas… it’s okay… whatever happens… know that it’s okay.”

The witch let out a cackle, and Dean shot a murderous glare at her twisted amusement. “So touching — and entertaining, but playtime’s over.” With a wave of her hand, the fire suddenly died and the guns flew from their belts and disappeared into the pews. The brothers froze in surprise. Well, they can’t say they didn’t try. “Guardian — teloc.” The witch pointed a long, gnarled finger at them.

Cas’s face contorted in pain, shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying his hardest to stay upright. “I — will not hurt —”

“You will not hurt them. Yes you’ve said that before, and look where we are now!” The witch’s command grew stronger, Dean could feel it weighing heavy on his conscious, making him dizzy. After a battle of wills, fought too quickly for Dean to even register, Cas fell to his knees. Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder to keep him from moving towards him. “Cas!” he called. The angel held up his hand.

“Don’t.” His eyes began to radiate the grace behind them, seeping through his pupils, the true force of his being. Once more he turned to Dean, “Please…” Dean could feel his heart breaking, cracking as Cas’s conscious began to slip from his grasp. He was fading, disappearing behind a dark shroud. “Dean… please.” He was begging, oh god, he was begging.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice broke, “I can’t.”

Cas’s expression was one of a broken man. His face drained of all feeling, numb and cold as stone. Finally, for the first time, a tear slipped down his heavenly face. “Then I cannot do anything more for you…” Dean shook his head, Cas didn’t understand — he didn’t understand how much he meant. “Goodbye Dean.”

The room exploded. All sound suddenly too loud and too soft. Sam and Dean were thrown to the ground, a wave of nebulous energy washing  over them, drowning the room in a white glow as wave upon wave crashed down. Dean forced his eyes open. He watched, even though he didn’t fully comprehend what he was seeing.

Grace streamed from Cas’s body, flowing from his skin and spiraling up into the air, swirling in a vortex higher and higher. The cyclone of holy light condensed, swirling and swirling until it expanded. Streams of grace unfolded and spread in every direction. With the ease of ripping paper, the roof of the church was suddenly blown off and the walls crumbled. The grace began to solidify, the extended light settling into feathers then wings, form then physique. The body rose, eyes glowing, clawed hands unfurling like a deadly rose until the angel finally towered over them, in all his glory, a final roar piercing the air.

Castiel’s vessel had disappeared, replaced with his true body, the mighty seraphim. He hovered, impossibly tall, beautiful, and deadly. There was a long pause where all stared at him, a strange silence of bated breath. The obliterated room began to swirl, pieces of debris slowly floating and joining the stream of wood, books, and stone until all was chaos. A hurricane of wind and ruin surrounded them from all sides without a single break. But all seemed peaceful in the center, the eye of the storm silent with false calm. They could do nothing more than cower against the light.

“Totza congamphlgh,”the witch’s voice whisped above the roaring silence, “Totza congamphlgh i ozien.”

“ **_A acocasahe, phama elasa maelpereji.”_ ** Castiel’s true voice echoed, sound reverberating across all dimensions and frequencies, infinite volume pounding into the Winchesters’ ears and pressing them harder against the cold floor.

“Save your threats!” she snapped, “This is it bright one. Take him.” Castiel shuddered, form convulsing in waves before with a sudden snap of his wings, he dove towards the ground. He landed on all fours, claws digging into the earth as it shook under his weight. One step forward and he loomed above them, nebulous wings spread and glittering gaze burning.

“No!” Sam threw himself atop his brother, trying to shield him. With the flick of one gargantuan claw Sam went flying, back slamming against a ruined confessional.

Dean watched as Sam was thrown effortlessly, and reluctantly turned away as a deep feeling of dread washed over him. He gazed up at Castiel as the angel bore down on him, claws outstretched. Dean was ready for any number of horrors, knew what could befall him and wanted to face it with all the dignity he could muster.  But he could not help but try and back away, it was instinct. His weakness was evident as he cried out, the pain across his shoulder flared as he crawled and he fell on his back. “Come on!” he called out as a cough wracked his lungs, “Let’s make this quick!”

 **There is no quick way for this to be done** , the witch’s voice ebbed into his mind, suspiciously quiet. **What I need from you Dean… it will not be quick and it will not be painless.** Dean screamed as a claw sliced through his leg, cutting all the way through like a fish on a hook. He struggled as he was dragged across the tile, reeled in closer to his fate. **Your soul is bright and full and beautiful… you’ll make me even stronger. The pain will last an eternity… but it will be worth it.** The dread was fully setting in now, her words echoing in his head. No, no, no, this couldn’t be how he ends! Maybe Hell or Purgatory or nothing! — but not fuel for a power hungry monster. No! He was fine with all other fates but this.

His blood was everywhere, the floor and his thigh smeared with it. Tears pricked his eyes, everything hurt so goddamn much!

**Go on Castiel, do it. I command you. You were so close last time — just a little farther.**

The dream, it flashed in Dean’s mind and he finally understood. The witch had tried to take his soul. His soul was at stake, not just his life. Cas had tried, he had really tried. “I’m sorry Cas, I’m sorry!” He gasped for air, “It’s not your fault — won’t blame you!”

“Be quiet!” Dean’s voice suddenly cut short as the witch silenced him with a snap of her fingers. “You’re ready Castiel… you heard him… it’s okay if you do it.” Dean didn’t have the energy to be angry, all he could process was his upcoming doom.

Castiel tensed, Dean felt it as his claw dug further and he struggled silently, vision blurring. “Dean! DEAN!” Sam’s voice cut through the chaos but Dean knew he couldn’t help. He looked up.

His eyes widened as the angel’s mouth opened, an array of long sharp fangs framing a tongue of grace. It flowed down, alien and graceful, hypnotizing. A soft ringing surrounded him, growing as the grace drew closer, its light cocooning Dean in a strange tempting weariness.

“DEAN! DEAN!” Sam’s voice faded, Dean could only focus on the light, how it danced and flowed towards him, welcoming. Then the facade snapped. Everything was cold, so very very cold but this grace — it was living flame. Dean desperately searched the seraph’s face but he found no recognition in it.

The angel leaned in closer, hovering over the hunter with wings extended and eyes and mouth aglow. Dean couldn't rip his gaze from him, that mesmerizing, tumultuous swirl of grace and power pouring down to devour him.

And Dean could do nothing.

The ringing in his head intensified and dread and panic made him even more rigid under the angel's grip. Then with the speed of an arrow, the light shot towards him.

A pain tore through him. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. It filled every pore of his skin, set every muscle aflame, cut every neuron, crushing his bones into dust just to build them up and crush them again. His mind was screaming and laughing and crying, his emotions jumping from one to the next as his conscious was scrambled in a mix of insanity.  This pain, it ran deeper than his body — it went to his _soul_. He gasped and arched up at the sudden agony tearing at every atom of his being. He was being ripped apart, piece by agonizing piece. Is this what was waiting for him in eternity?

"CAS STOP!!!" But the words never made it past his tongue.

His mouth fell open and he felt himself choking, the air forced from his lungs. Except instead of air escaping him, Dean watched in horror as a familiar stream of light emanated from him and began to trail up towards the angel's mouth.

And he could do nothing.

Dean wasn't scared. He was fucking terrified.

 

______________________

 

Dean was screaming. Sam could hear the sound ring in his ears and turn his blood to ice. It was shrill, breaking through the swirling chaos of the being in front of him — the being that was causing that bone-chilling sound.

Dean never screamed, not like this.

Sam's heart thudded in his throat. Dean. Not Dean. He couldn't take Dean too.

The ravaged church still swirled in a vortex around them, bits of wood and books circling the eye of the storm, like planets around a star. Sam had to stop him. Stop the angel from whatever he was doing. Cas was _killing_ Dean — no, worse.

“Cas! Stop! STOOOP!!!” he cried, tears streaming down his face as Dean’s screams continued to pierce the air. The angel didn’t move, only leaning closer as his light grew brighter. Sam had no choice. He pulled out his angel blade.

“Not so fast, _moz_.” Sam turned his head and there she was, standing, watching as if this was nothing more than an entertaining game. She didn’t seem disturbed in the least, in fact, she watched with interest. “Isn’t it peculiar… how easily friends can be turned against each other.”

Sam tried to move forward, but his feet were held in place. He cursed. “It wasn’t Cas who turned on us — he’s still there. It was _you_ who did this!”

“Was it?”

Sam knew this mind game, he’d played it with Lucifer long enough. The Devil trying to convince him that Dean had wanted him gone, that he’d let Sam go because he’d be glad to know he was burning. “Bullshit!” he spat, “Cas is family!”

“He’s betrayed you before, has he not?”

“Because he wanted to protect us!! He wanted to do what had to be done so that we didn’t have to! Yes he went too far but he knows now!” The screaming stopped. Sam’s heart froze, head whipping around to stare at Dean. “Oh no. No, no, no.” The air had gone quiet, everything slowing as a golden light bled out from the center of the room. Sam had seen souls before, had almost held them in his hands, but he had never seen one glow like that — with all the radiance of a sun and the look of liquid gold. It was tarnished, but the dark spots only allowed the golden strands to glow ever brighter. Dean’s soul was magnificent — and floating up slowly, strands lazily breaking off from their source and stretching towards Cas’s outstretched tongue.

Sam pulled and ripped at his feet, begging them to move but they stayed glued to the stone. “You can do nothing. Just watch, it’s fascinating. I myself have never seen this process.”

“You horrible, sick, twisted, soulless bitch!!” Sam shouted curses and profanities at her as he panicked. He had to do something, he had to do something! Then it hit him. Sam stood up, rolling the angel blade over in his hand. He could still move his torso, arms, and hands. Without hesitation, Sam gripped the blade, aimed and threw. The blade stuck into the base of Cas’s neck. The angel reeled back, screeching and flapping his wings. Dean’s soul receded, the light returning to his limp body, flooding back into his throat and settling in his chest. Dean gasped, arching up and writhing like a fish out of water, acute pain twisting his face and body.

Relief washed over Sam as Dean met his eyes briefly before rolling back onto the floor. Sam’s attention was drawn as the angel writhed, shaking his great head and scratching at the small splinter in his neck. Finally the blade clattered back down to the floor, liquid grace bathing its tip. Small dribbles of grace dripped down, white glowing up from where it pooled. Although the puddles of grace were easily the size of a swimming pool, it was still miniscule, barely a pin prick — and Sam knew it the moment Castiel’s gaze turned to him.

“Shit, shit, shit!” The witch seemed to have let him go as he sprinted full speed across the room, diving behind a line of pews, a claw decimating the area where he had stood. Sam poked his head out from the side, scanning the floor until Dean came into view. “Dean! DEAN!” He yelled. His brother’s head raised, his bloodshot eyes searching until they found their mark. “RUN DEAN! GET OUT OF HERE! I’LL BUY YOU TIME!” The blank look in his brother’s eyes made his heart sink. “GET OUT!” He screamed again. A loud thud and the great shadow above him warned him of Cas’s presence. He threw one last look at his brother — and saw him shake his head. Dean wasn’t leaving.

The pew he’d been hiding behind disappeared, it was thrown, shattered against the floor. Sam looked up in time to see a hand flying down at him. He rolled as fast as he could, narrowly missing those sharp claws. But as soon as he’d dodged the first the second reached out to grab his legs. He kicked and punched but he was still dragged into the air like a doll, blood rushing to his head as he stared at the world upside down, long teeth and blinding light.

“Cas! Wait!” Sam heard his brother’s rough voice cry out. The angel paused, shifting his gaze downward. Sam could see Dean, arms wrapped around his chest, shaking, as he knelt in a pool of his own blood. “It’s me you want, so just take me. Leave him alone.”

“Dean no!”

“Let it happen Sammy!” Dean’s voice was cracking, breaking like his body and now his soul. “This can’t end any other way. The least I can do is get most of us out of this alive. This is my burden to bear.”

“No I won’t let you!” Sam tried to regain Cas’s attention, scratching and grabbing but the angel ignored him. The angel looked to the witch, seeking instructions. She stood to the side, in between Cas and Dean. Her face was tilted, considering her options, finger on her chin. She tapped it thoughtfully then nodded, her decision made. Sam waited with bated breath.

“Take that one first,” she slowly lowered her finger and pointed it straight at Dean, “I’ll make the other one watch.”

“NOOO!” Sam struggled then felt the grip on his legs cease. He fell. His head cracked against the stone floor. His vision turned white — all he could do was listen as the world crashed around him. There was thunder and ringing and the breaking of stone and wood. His blindness felt like an eternity, he couldn’t see but the return of screams was all Sam needed to hear to know what was happening. “NO DEAN! PLEASE NO!” He felt rain splattering on his cheeks, mingling with his tears. He was cold, he was hurting, his mouth filling with blood where he’d bitten himself in the fall. He didn’t care about any of it. “DEAN! DEAN!” He kept screaming, praying for his vision to return. His yelling continued until he heard the witch shout something, a flare of heat streaking across his skin, then it was silent. He lay still, waiting.

An odd calm momentarily placated his mind. It lasted only a minute, but when it stopped, his vision slowly returned. He was laying on his stomach, cheek plastered to the stone floor, rain soaked hair sticking to his face and neck, clothes clinging to his ragged limbs. His sight came into focus on the hillside he could now see from the ruins of the church. It was lit aflame, a silent red blossom spreading its petals across the mountains. The witch and Castiel were nowhere in sight. “Dean?” he croaked. With monumental effort, Sam managed to struggle to his feet. He took a few stumbling steps forward, examining the wreckage around him. Wood, stone, the usual, until he looked forward. “Dean?...” his voice was even quieter now. He hugged his arm to his side as he limped towards the motionless body on the ground. “Dean?” he asked again, lips quivering with the rest of him.

Dean was lying on his back, blood staining him from head to toe. His hands skimmed the red floor below him, his legs bent as if he’d fallen sideways. His face was pale, lips parted slightly and eyes half open. “D-Dean?” Sam felt numb. His legs worked on their own accord as he fell beside his brother, hands reaching out to touch his face, wiping the blood from his cheeks, trying to wake him with the touch of his fingers. “N-No…” Sam, with a shaky hand, pressed two fingers to his brother’s neck. He waited. One minute, two minutes. He felt nothing. He pressed harder and waited some more. Ten minutes. Nothing.

Sam crumbled, dragging his brother into his lap and rocking him in his arms. “No.... no… You were supposed to live… We were supposed to get out of this…” Sam sobbed, crying without restraint, whimpering and pleading because he knew no one could hear. “I promised you, I promised you…”

Sam stayed for god knew how long, the rain increasing its feriousity, the thunder shouting its grief. Sam’s world was falling apart. He didn’t know what to do. Castiel was gone, Adahy was gone, the witch was gone, and now… Dean Winchester was dead.


	9. The Curse of the Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam lives through the aftermath, and the heart break that comes with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready your tissues...

**October 13th: 3:34 pm**

The sky above was blanketed in a shroud of swirling grey. It cried fat, wet tears, pummelling the dry dirt until it squished into mud. Lightening clapped, splitting reality as its energy streaked across the sky. It showered a brief light on the harsh landscape, illuminating the jagged hills.

As the rain fell, the fires slowly hissed away, placated by the heavenly drink. The burnt trees smoked, black husks standing dead against the remaining green, corpses left to decay and fall prey to the way of Mother Nature’s burial.

Sam walked on. The weight in his arms weighing heavier on his heart than the weariness of his mind. He didn’t know how he went on, with a torn shoulder, strained back, barely able to walk himself, let alone with his brother. He didn’t care about the pain, he decided. That is how he continued.

The search for a safe place to rest had been a tough one. With most of the village burnt to the ground, and the chance of stray wendigo about — they had strangely all disappeared — Sam had spent a good hour looking for a decent place to rest his head and his brother’s body.

Sam dreaded the trek. Walking step by painful step, each one heavier than the last until he was forced to rest, collapsing to the ground. He had panted, gasping for breath as Dean lay cold in his arms. His face was already drained of color, shining wet from the rain and the blood now washed away. Sam didn’t want to see what time did to his brother’s corpse — even less so did he want to think of what had happened to his brother’s soul. He swallowed down the bile in his throat and moved on.

The long rest of the journey to the temporary safe haven gave Sam time to think — time he didn’t want. He couldn’t help but imagine what had happened as he’d lain there blind on the church floor. So many horrible ways Dean could’ve died. With so much blood and so much screaming — Sam shuddered as scenario after scenario passed through his head.

Eventually, his mind turned to Cas. The cold dagger of heartbreak dug its way deeper into his chest. Sam had known Cas for a long time, knew things about him that even Dean didn’t know. Cas was gentle but firm, kind but cold if it came to it. Castiel was a soldier whose heart was too big for his chest, but most importantly, Cas was Sam’s friend.

Sam knew the angel never wanted this, knew he would’ve given anything to stop it — had offered his life… as he always did, in true Winchester spirit. But it hadn’t worked. Dean had refused his offer, and Sam knew well enough why. Their love had killed them in the end.

But he didn’t know if Cas was gone, he reminded himself. Cas had succumbed to the witch yes, but maybe he was just trapped, screaming inside his own head as he was forced to do terrible, terrible things. Sam knew what that was like.

I must save him, Sam thought. If not for Cas’s sake, then for Dean’s. And he had promised, he had sworn… he would not kill Castiel. It would’ve been the simplest way but… shame flooded him, how could he have thought to do that? But Sam knew why: it would put Cas out of his misery, it would prevent him from being used to hurt anyone else, and it would free him from his profound guilt. It was merciful… the least he could do for his best friend.

But no — he had to think of another way, some way to break the witch’s spell, steal the dagger, or kill her. But he didn’t have the means to do so… Sam was worn, Sam was tired, and had nothing except the clothes on his back and the weariness in his limbs. “I need help…” he whispered past cracked lips, “I can’t do this alone.” Thunder was his answer.

His wet feet dragged on the rough wood as he finally carried himself and his brother up the steps and into the relatively dry house. Two beds lay against a wall, a window illuminating their tattered sheets. It was better than nothing.

He laid Dean down on the farthest bed, laying him face up. Moonlight pearled the droplets on his paled skin, softening the cold of death and making him almost peaceful. If Sam thought hard enough, he could convince himself that he was only sleeping.

Finally, Sam lay down in the accompanying bed, bones aching as they sighed in relief. Sam stared a while, head turned away from the moonlight to gaze at Dean’s face. “It shouldn’t have been this way…” he whispered, “I should’ve saved you.”

His lids grew heavy, his mind clouding as it forced him back under the warm blanket of unconsciousness. Sam should stay awake, he should be figuring out what to do next, but his body refused. He cried, he fought against that good night… but slowly, inevitably he fell asleep.

He lay as still as death, cold as stone. Sam was not among the dead, but for a brief moment, all that separated him from the body beside him was the beating in his chest.

 

_________________

 

Sam awoke to the dribble of rain on wood. The petrichor smell filled his nose as he blinked himself awake. He was surprised by the stiffness in his limbs and he groggily came to the conclusion that his clothes were wet.

He didn’t want to move, his face was turned towards the moonlight where he watched the rain pitter patter on the window sill. It was just him, the clouds and the moon. How long had he slept, he wondered. There was no way to tell.

Reality came back to him when he rolled over. The light played across Dean’s gaunt face, wavering as the clouds passed overhead. Sam sighed and closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to deal with this, he just wanted to go back to sleep — but his conscious would not let him rest. He’d already wasted too much time. He needed to move on.

He started by warding the little, wretched house. His shoulder was no longer bleeding, having scabbed in an awful clump.It felt inflamed and puffy, Sam wouldn’t be surprised if it was infected. So he picked at the scab, itching it until a bit peeled off and more blood flowed free. It was a small amount but enough. He painted the wards, recreating them to the best of his ability. He ended by drawing an additional ward around Dean’s bed for good measure. He’d make sure his brother recieved a hunter’s funeral. Once finished, he took a deep breath, standing in the center of the room to admire his handiwork. It wasn’t much, but it would keep any hungry monsters out. Step one done… now what?

Sam sat on the floor, resting his head in his dirty hands. He mustn’t break, he musn’t give up. He wanted to — he wanted to lay down beside his brother, scream to the heavens and wait for Cas to find him so they could share the same fate. But he couldn’t… he couldn’t do that to Cas. Dean might have been lost, but Sam could still save Cas. He just needed time and resources, both which he didn’t have. So he would have to make some.

Time… he had to find a way to stall for time. Sam was sure the witch would use her new power to spread her reign. She didn’t care about life or death, young or old — as long as it didn’t touch her. She just wanted the world to herself, and the souls that lived in it. She would use Cas, an immense, powerful being; a creature made of pure light and stardust to carry out her desires — it would be stupid if she didn’t. That had to be her plan. If Cas could take souls so easily… Sam didn’t want to think of how many more people she could force him to devour and bind to her. Cas was the bigger threat, he was why the witch was cocky enough to try for more. Maybe Sam couldn’t kill the witch, but maybe he could weaken Cas.

Sam hated this, oh god he hated plotting against his best friend. One time was enough. Why had it come to this?

It didn’t matter… this was how it was now. But how…  _ how?!  _ Sam pulled his hair, his jacket, his skin. It was maddening. The thoughts in his head spiralled, drowning him in despair, rendering him helpless.  _ This  _ was maddening! He couldn’t take it. What would he do after? What would he do without Dean? Without Cas?

No — no! He had to stop  _ thinking! _

Sam wasn’t a stranger to panic. More than once he’d felt his heart race, hands shaking, sweat drenching his forehead as his world crumbled around him. He’d learned how to deal with these attacks. They hadn’t been as frequent in the past few years but with Lucifer’s reappearance they’d grown worse. And now with him sitting here, alone, tired, and overwhelmed — he was only slightly surprised when he felt it coming.

The terror set in as usual, no less overwhelming than any other time. He was used to it by now. Shaking, he stumbled back to his bed, sitting with head bowed and hands in his lap. He closed his eyes _. _

He listened to the sound of the rain, letting it fill his mind. He focused on his breathing, slowing it down to match the steady drops that leaked from the window and slid to the floor beside him. His eyes began to well on their own accord but he continued his exercise. Despite his fear, despite his hopelessness, despite it all, Sam calmed.

“It will be okay…” he whispered, “It  _ will  _ be okay.” It might be a lie, but it’s what Sam needed.

Eventually, Sam opened his eyes. His gaze landed on Dean again. He swallowed the rising bile in his throat. Sam had long since closed Dean’s eyes. He’d also buttoned his jacket, hiding what Sam had discovered was a gaping wound in his chest. He’d wiped what dirt and blood he could from Dean, with blurry eyes and heavy soul. But now as he looked upon Dean, he noticed a strange rectangular shape protruding from his jacket pocket.

With a curiousness and reverence, Sam stood and reached out his hand. His fingers slowly withdrew the object from Dean’s jacket, a frown on his face. Sam stared down at the witch's book, the black, leather cover and gold symbol smooth under his hands. He gingerly opened it, recoiling at the first red stained page. Then the realization hit him, Dean had had the book with him in the church the whole time.

Anger suddenly flared within him. He clutched the book, digging his nails into the dark cover. While Sam was busy painting the church walls with his blood, Dean had had this book with god knew what spells in it! How had he not thought of that? Dean had sat there, in shock — and had completely forgotten, or worse yet, knew but didn’t care anymore. “We could’ve used it!” Sam shouted, “We could’ve stopped the whole thing from happening if we’d just remembered and —” Sam sat down. “I should’ve thought of it… I should’ve…” He wanted to blame himself, it seemed like instinct now. Everything  _ had  _ to be the fault of one Winchester or another. But he couldn’t change the past, he couldn't fall to guilt now. Besides, there was no guarantee they would’ve found a useful spell anyway or have had cast it in time.

Sam thought back to that conversation, before the carnage. Dean had been reeling, from both sudden loss and realization. Dean needed that moment of rest, to consider and to think, but for Sam, all it had done was sink his spirits and make him pity their pathetic little lives. It was never fair.

Sam had always known Castiel had loved Dean, to some degree. When that feeling had blossomed into a romantic love was hard to pinpoint. Maybe it had always been, maybe it had just been realized… but Sam knew, even if Cas had not discovered it until now, his love had been growing for a long time. It was only a matter of time before it bloomed. Their bond, Cas’s devotion, the way he looked at Dean and admired him, looked to him for guidance… and how sometimes, Dean did the same; all of those things had been but small stepping stones, a long path to something much greater. The bud had grown, patient, and now it was glorious.

It had taken years, loss and reunion, betrayal and forgiveness; but the cycle always brought them back to the start. They always ended up together again.

If this had ended any other way, Sam might’ve found it funny. He would tease Dean relentlessly about how they kept going in circles, on and on and on until finally one of them mustered up the strength to speak. But Dean was stubborn, and Cas was clueless.

And Sam couldn’t blame Cas for not knowing… he was only an angel. Sam and Dean had grown up knowing what they felt and what it meant, while Cas had grown to know emotions only as evil things. Only in this last decade, a blip in Cas’s infinite timeline had the angel discovered the wonders and woes of emotion — and Sam and Dean weren’t exactly stellar role models when it came to feelings and expressing them.

But maybe Cas  _ had  _ figured it out, and had stayed silent — for Dean’s sake or his own. Sam didn’t know and probably never would. Sam sighed.. He guessed that’s how all Winchester’s loves lives ended, in ruin and death. Their role in this universe seemed to have no use for anything else.

Sam peeled back another page of the book, ignoring the stains that he knew to be Dean’s blood. He detested the scratchy ink embedded in its pages, knowing it was written by the same gnarled hands that bore his brother’s blood. But maybe this hellish book contained some remnant that could be used for good. Adahy had used the book against the witch, so why couldn’t he?

He flipped through the book, scanning every word page after page. It felt almost normal again, just researching, his “Sam thing” as Dean would call it. Sam held back the flood of memories, forcing his mind to go numb.

He read through the spells, one after the other, leaving nothing unread, from the notes in the margins to the pages hasty notes etched onto loose leaves of crumbled paper. Most of them were in a language Sam didn’t know, a form of Native American, but a few, newer looking pages were written in English. She must have collected new spells over the years, Sam concluded, right up until she had wiped out the past village.

Sam didn’t know how long he sat there, hunched over the book, searching desperately for anything that might help him. He was on plan Z at this point and Sam wasn’t going to give up on one of the only hopes he had to protecting the last of his family.

He found it near the very end. Sam saw the hastily written note slide out and plop into his lap like all the others. He picked it up with boredom, his sore eyes blurring as he tried to decipher the words in the low light. He scanned it over. It sounded like a simple spell really; a bit of blood, herbs, and an “object of significant value” from the intended target. The ingredients were listed first, only when Sam began to read the effects of the spell did he perk up. “Oh shit,” he sat up straight, reading it over again to make sure he’d read correctly:

_ Lavender, bowl of blood, object of significant value _

_ Spell to weaken target and trap them within a certain area. Radius determined by value of object. Spell endures until the counter spell is recited (see back of note). _

_ Tua fortitudo recedes et potentia fades, in hac terra manere, donec ego levo hoc maledictum, et ponam te in libero. _

Sam let the words roll on his tongue, repeating the pronunciation and making sure he didn’t stumble on the latin words. A spell to weaken and trap — it would have to do. He laughed weakly, relief briefly lifting the weight from his shoulders. He’d found a temporary solution… another step down. Now to find some lavender and then…

Sam stared at Dean again. An object of significant value… If there was anything that Cas valued most in this world, it was Dean. A bit of Dean’s hair should work.

Now he knew what all he needed, and it wouldn’t take him long to find the common plant. Sam could perform the spell in the next few hours and head back towards civilization. All he had to do was trap Cas here… with the witch.

It was difficult. Sam knew this wouldn’t be easy on him or his friend. Cas was devastated, Sam knew he was. He’d just killed the man he loved, and taken his soul — somewhere. Cas would never forgive himself, probably thought he deserved this exile. Cas would understand why Sam had to do this, he had to.

Sam tried to gode his body into action, reviewing his plan and thinking as to where he’d seen some bushes nearby, but something was sitting in his gut, chaining him to the spot. Sam couldn’t do this without doing one last thing. Sam swallowed around his dry throat and slowly knelt down next to Dean’s bed. He placed his joined hands on the sheets, looking up and blinking away his tears before bowing his head.

“Castiel…” he began hesitantly, “I know you’re probably in worse shape than me right now but… I just want to say that I’m sorry. I want you to know that this isn’t your fault Cas — it’s none of our faults. You may not be able to forgive yourself but I do.  _ I  _ forgive you Cas and I’m sure Dean does too… we’re family Cas… and family looks out for each other — I’m going to help you, by god I’m gonna help you… but you’ll have to wait a little bit. Can you do that for me?” Sam took a deep breath, “I have to do what I have to do Cas, but know that it’s gonna be okay… I’ll come back for you. I won’t abandon you Castiel. I swear on my soul… I swear to Dean I’ll be back. Just hang in there for me. I have faith in you — we all do,” Sam paused, not knowing how to end, “So… I guess I’ll see you in a little while…” the last words wavered on Sam’s tongue, “Goodbye, Cas.”

Sam let his head slide into his arms, resting his face in the comforting blindness. His chest heaved, but he refused to let himself cry. Eventually he looked up, staring blankly at his brother’s cold hand. His brow furrowed as he stood, turning towards the door. He pushed past the crumbling wood, letting the cold air cut past him. As he forged his way, he spoke past his cracking throat, “I’ve got work to do.”


	10. 2 Corinthians:12-9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is dead.

**October 13th: 2:02 pm**

“Take that one first.”

The world was on fire. All around Dean was hot and burning. His skin, his veins, his soul, all aflame. Existence was agony, but as Dean watched the witch’s curel finger point to him, he sighed, content. In dying, it would buy more time; Sam would have a chance.

Dean tried to run. He knew it was useless with the gaping wound in his leg and the fire in his lungs, but one extra second might just give Sam the time he needed to survive.

The pain was everywhere, devouring his mind. He knew now what would happen to him, and he almost desperately wished Sam had just let it happen the first time, let him be taken, so he wouldn’t have to endure the agony and overwhelming terror a second time.

He took a single step before falling to the ground, body screaming. He crawled, arms shaking so badly he nearly fell again. He was afraid, he couldn’t help it. He could feel the fear deep in his soul. He’d never felt this scared in his life. The closest he could recall was when he was in the Pit, burning in Hell.

But soon he would be in a whole new hell, a different eternal torment. His fate seemed fixed to this end. In one time or another, immortal punishment was his destiny, pain was his mistress — but this was for Sam and Cas, it was a noble end. His sacrifice had to be worth something.

When he felt the angel’s presence move, Dean forced himself not to look back. He fought the urge to cower and plead and beg. He only let out a broken whimper as the light surrounding him intensified and the ringing in his head became unbearable — but he had to be strong. He had to make this easier for Cas to bear. He knew his words would be little comfort once he was gone. If he made the memory of this less horrific, then maybe Cas wouldn’t have to carry the guilt of knowing just how horribly in pain Dean was when he killed him.

The gaze of a thousand suns blazed across Dean’s back and he swore his already singed clothes started to hiss. A giant clawed shadow descended, blocking the light. Dean closed his eyes.

He was picked up effortlessly. Dean didn’t even have the energy to struggle. The ground disappeared and all he could see was light; beautiful, horrifying light. The angel’s face enveloped his view, reminding him of the first time Dean had seen him up close. He was in no less awe now, though the wide display of long teeth and a gaping mouth sent a shiver down his spine. He tried to keep focus on Castiel’s eyes. His eyes had always seemed to be able to simultaneously calm and excite him. Though they now lacked pupils, an iris, any human characteristic, it still felt the same.

The teeth parted farther, that strange slither of light once again snaking towards him. Dean wish he didn’t have to watch this again. He didn’t want to  _ feel  _ this again. He’d felt the grace coxing the soul from his body. He’d felt it leave, split him in two. For a second, his conscious and his mind were two different things. His perception of the world had momentarily frozen. Reality had burst into colors, a kaleidoscope, dimensions merged in ways Dean could never perceive or hope to understand. He’d been floating, it was euphoria and misery; he’d been utterly free but chained to the vulnerability of his essence. It was a taste of both heaven and hell — now he’d have to go through it all again.

Dean watched Castiel pause, winged head tilting towards the ground. Through the ringing, Dean heard a familiar whisper, soft and sickening. What the witch was saying, he did not know, he was not aware enough and did not really care.

Without warning, his world was pain again. Dean screamed, his entire body crushed under unfathomable celestial strength, his bones crunching together like toothpicks. It was slow, the witch would not just  _ let  _ him die. He was riding the breaking point, grazing the edge between a coherent human and a squashed bug. He tried to stifle himself, suppress his screams but they were squeezed from him. With Castiel’s claws wrapped around him in a death vice, Dean just hoped Cas had enough coherence to make this quicker for him, but he doubted it.

Something in Dean’s chest snapped. It was sharp, tearing his breath away. Suddenly blood was everywhere, his nose, his mouth; he was choking on it and he couldn’t breath. The more he tried, the more blood spewed from his mouth.

His eyes watered, but he still tried to fix them to Cas. The least he could do for his friend was try and comfort him in this moment. “ ‘S okay,” he coughed, splattering red onto the swirling blue of the angel’s hand, “Cas, I’ll still lo— “ He cried out again, the pop as his arm dislocated, pushing harder against his struggling lungs. His breath was coming fast, “I f-forgive you — i-it’s okay.”

**So precious,** the witch’s voice hissed unwillingly into his mind, **You can try and soothe him but he will hate himself for the rest of eternity, Dean Winchester. He will always remember this moment; the snap of your bones, the taste of your soul and the look when the life leaves your eyes. You cannot save him, and neither can your brother. He is mine now, completely.**

Dean ignored her, only looking at Cas. He was all that mattered; his friend, his family, his lover. The angel’s grip tightened, and Dean bit his quivering lip as the claw tips began to dig into his skin.

A spark of frustration riled Dean into speaking. He didn’t even think, he just wanted to say it, because it was true. He knew now, it was  _ truth _ . And if Cas hadn’t heard him before, then by god he would hear him now.

“Cas, I love you!” Dean blurted it out. Shouting it to the heavens before his lungs gave out. “I fucking love you, you hear!” His eyes were bleeding now, or blood was dripping into his eyes, he didn't know. The world was swimming.

“I love you, Cas… “ It wasn’t even a breath. Almost no sound left him anymore. This was how Cas would remember him. If this was their last moment, he wanted Cas to know that he was loved, that he was worth this, that Dean would never fucking forget him or regret him or think that he was anything less that the most deserving angel in the entire fucking universe. Tears flowed unabated from his eyes as he kept trying to say it, over and over again. It’d be the last thing he’d ever say and he was proud of that.  _ I love you, I love you, I love you…  _

Cas stopped, Dean watched the angel freeze. His wings, spread high and menacing drooped, the feathers crowning his head flattening as the angel’s expression changed. Even in his true form, Dean could recognize the angel’s face. His eyes widened, mouth dipping sadly and Dean smiled. He smiled because now he knew… the angel understood.

Genuine tears of happiness leaked from the corners of his bleeding eyes. A peace fell over him, cocooning him in a silk embrace and muffled his pain. Cas knew he loved him… and that’s all that mattered.

It wasn’t until Dean felt his feet hit the ground that he realized that Cas had lowered him. He fell to his knees as the angel’s grip ceased. Confusion clouded his mind as he lay there on the floor. For a moment, he stared at his shaky, bloody hands, then raised his gaze and met the familiar, warm touch of Castiel.

The angel stroked a gentle claw down Dean’s cheek. Dean leaned into the touch, intoxicating, warm, and welcoming. It was a small piece of heaven that Dean never knew he craved. He knew this was Cas now, the real Cas…

**How dare you!!!** The witch screamed,  **You will continue — I SAID CONTINUE!!!**

Cas’s claw wavered. Dean weakly held to it, keeping himself upright and keeping Cas close. He could already feel the angel reaching out, wrapping his mind in a blanket of satin and calm and comfort. He wanted to drown in it.

**_Dean?_ ** Castiel’s voice was weak and groggy but Dean clung to it like a lifeline.

_ Cas I’m here, I’m here… _

**_Dean… can’t move… can’t speak…_ **

_ I’m here… _

“IF YOU WILL NOT FINISH THIS —” The witch’s voice rose in anger, “THEN I WILL!” Cas’s eyes widened, flashing a warning across their connection, but the angel was too slow.

Dean felt the heat of the spell. There was a green flash in his peripherals, barely a blip of light. Something struck his back. It was followed not by pain but by a numbness. At first, he assumed he’d imagined it, that nothing had happened. He didn’t fall over and he didn’t feel anything. He stared at Cas in surprise, the look on the angel’s face one of grief and horror. Cas opened his mouth and for the first time, Dean heard the angel scream.

Dean blinked, silently staring down to where the angel was looking. Dean frowned and raised his hand to touch his chest, where the numbness was spreading. He touched the area over his heart, slowing withdrawing it and looking at it curiously. Red and black blood covered his fingers and Dean felt as a wetness begin to spread over his torso. He looked up at Cas sadly, mouth devoid of words.

Dean fell as his heart began to slow, beating futility in his weakening chest. He felt the spell eating away at the flesh there, it didn’t particularly hurt, it just made him tired. Dean felt a soft warmth at his back, Castiel’s gentle touch was still there. He was laying in the angel’s hand, cradled, he realized, like a broken bird. Cas drew him closer and to his surprise, saw the angel’s eyes filled with tears. They dripped silently, drops of grace watering the ground. Where they landed, green suddenly sprouted, flowering before him. Dean stared absently at their sad beauty.

**_No, no, no…_ ** Cas murmured, voice cracking. Gently, Dean felt a finger card through his hair, soothing him, but it only seemed to frustrate Cas.  **_Dammit! Let me heal him!_ ** The angel cried, raising his head to roar at the witch.

**You will not. He will die and you will give his soul to me!** The witch sneered, irritation evident in her glowing yellow eyes.

The spell held fast, Cas shivering as he fought it. Why Cas could take control now, Dean didn’t know. He half expected Cas to finish what he started, but the angel was still, staring hopelessly into his eyes with all the sorrow of a wilted flower.

**JUST KILL HIM!** The witch shouted,  **You are still weak, you cannot fight this forever!**

The angel ignored her. Castiel bent down, wings draping forward to shield Dean from the witch’s gaze. Dean stared as the world around him dimmed. The angel’s light had receded, easing the pain in his eyes and revealing to him feathers, dazzling, each one shifting to join the swirling mass of colors; blue, black, purple hues of all sorts that formed a uniform galactic pattern.

“So beautiful Cas…” he whispered deliriously between his reddened lips.

**_Shhh… Dean I’ve got you now. I won’t let her touch you._ **

A cackle invaded the peaceful atmosphere.  **You can’t heal him angel. Once he’s dead I’ll take him. Either do as you're told or I will finish it. I must say I’m very disappointed in you guardian. I thought you’d be better behaved.**

The feathers around Dean shook, distorting the facade of stars. It was getting harder for Cas to resist but somehow, he still held on.

Dean was slipping. The spell was getting closer and closer to his heart. The pain was finally setting in and he couldn’t find the energy to focus on much else. It was just him, the pain, and Cas.

The angel was shaking, and Dean knew it wouldn’t be long before he died. It was nice to have Cas here though. Maybe he’d see him in Heaven — wait, he wasn’t going to Heaven. Was it Hell? No that didn’t sound right. He couldn’t remember much anymore.

**_Dean please!_ ** Cas’s desperate voice jarred Dean from his descent into unconsciousness.  **_Hold on — I have to heal you, just give me time!_ **

**You can’t defy me fool! Now let me have him!**

**_NO!_ ** Cas shouted, tightening the shield of feathers around them.  **_I’ll never let you have his soul, never!_ **

Dean let out a small whimper. The pain in his chest was spreading, forming like an unshakable itch under his skin. He desperately reached up to try and scratch it away but it only made it worse. He was shaking now, uncontrollably. Wave after wave of shock coursing  through him.

**There’s nothing left to do Castiel. Let him be.**

**_No I can heal him! I can heal him!_ ** But nothing happened. Cas let out a frustrated snarl. The angel’s mind was whirling, Dean could sense his mania as he tried to think. Then it stopped.

The angel’s eyes widened, hope sparkling through his grace.  **_Dean look at me, you have to listen. Dean!_ ** Cas’s voice boomed on the last word.

Dean's attention was snapped back to reality. Suddenly things were clear again, though his head was going fuzzy. Shit, he was dying. He was dying and then he’d be trapped with the witch forever and ever and then he’d never see Sam or Cas again and then —

**_Dean listen to me very carefully. I wish I never had to ask this of you but it’s the only way… Do you trust me?_ **

Dean’s wide eyes were fixed to Cas. He nodded.  _ I trust you Cas… _

**_I need your consent… Dean you need to give me your soul._ **

_ What... _

**_If you voluntarily give me your soul Dean, she can’t touch you. She can’t break that pact._ **

_ But —  _ Dean's mind was racing now, fear and dangerous hope filling him,  _ If my soul is yours, then couldn’t she could still make you give it up? _

**_Dean please… just trust me… I promise it won’t hurt this time._ **

_ What happens after — _

**_Dean we are running out of time!_ **

Dean couldn’t think straight, but his gut was telling him this was a horrible, horrible idea. So much could go wrong. And the idea of his soul… Dean shuddered thinking about it. But his life was ebbing away. Cas was right, they were out of time.

**_I wish there were another way… but either you give me your consent and I may be able to save your soul — or you die and then there’s no chance I can get you back from her. Me or the witch Dean, who would you prefer?_ **

Dean couldn’t shake the fear plaguing him. He didn’t want to give himself up to anyone.  _ He _ was in change of his fate, or at least he’d like to think he was. He’d be vulnerable, even more so than he was now. Loss of control, the unknown…

**_Dean?_ **

Dean ignored the nagging in his brain. This was Cas. Dean would trust him with his life — and his soul.  _ Okay Cas, okay. I trust you…  _ He swallowed his fear,  _ Yes. I give you my consent. _

The angel bent down again, but paused.  **_Close your eyes Dean._ ** Dean tried, but his body just didn’t seem to listen anymore. His breath was coming in short bursts, he was gasping trying to get enough air. Gently, mercifully, Cas raised his other hand and placed a soft finger over Dean's eyes. He could no longer see what was happening.

**_It’s okay Dean. I will take good care of you, I promise._ **

The feeling of moving grace returned. Dean panicked, he knew what was happening but Cas’s warm touch forced the feeling away. A jab of triumph shot through the connection, the witch assuming that she’d won, that Cas had given in and was doing as she asked.

Dean knew the moment the grace touched his soul. It flared, sending a wave of heat coursing through him. But where Dean expected pain, he instead felt peace.  There was no resistance, he went willingly, Cas wrapping around him as gently as a roll of cotton. All weariness was forgotten, his wounds disappeared, the world was just a swirl of colors and soft sounds and calming light.

His body was left behind. Dean was still aware of it, but it seemed unimportant. It had only brought pain and suffering but this new existence, it was a utopia. Dean blinked, the darkness around him lifted. He was still in the church, Cas’s wings folding back like a curtain, but he was detached, floating, his emotions not quite there.

**You’ve done it guardian! You’re free! You’re free!** The witch jumped with glee,  **Now give him to me.**

Castiel darkened, anger and smug pride rising like a cobra. Dean was surprised how much stronger Cas’s emotions felt now.

Castiel snarled,  **_I will not._ **

The witch froze, surprise on her face.  **But — Wait! No! The spell, it’s weakening! What did you do!**

**_Funny,_ ** Castiel smiled, angelic fangs gleaming,  **_I thought after all these years, you’d understand more about souls._ **

**Stop it! I command you to stop it!**

Cas didn’t stop. He stepped over Dean, towards the witch.  **_All the souls you took were stolen Stikini. They will only give you only a fraction of their power because they do not do so willingly. How much stronger do you think I am with the power of a full willing soul at my disposal?_ **

The witch screamed, realizing her mistake as a fully powered seraph bared down on her.

**I repent! I’m sorry!**

**_You’re far past redemption. I promised you I’d drag you down to hell where you belong._ **

The witch hissed, yellow teeth bared in frustration,  **Then you’ll have to break the spell completely first! Darbs!**

The spell’s strength renewed and Cas tensed, claws curling. He slammed the ground, trying to lash out at her, but he couldn’t reach, the spell keeping him from her.  **You still aren’t strong enough angel!**

In a second, Dean found Cas above him again, hand gently stroking his face as he leaned down one last time.  **_I must flee, I must outrun her before the spell regains its full strength. I will see you soon Dean, but first I will relieve you of your misery._ ** The angel leaned down, placing an impossibly soft kiss on Dean's cheek.  **_Rest for now, beloved._ ** And with that, Cas disappeared. A flap of wings and the angel was gone, the witch following in a flurry of green.

It was calm. Dean was left on the ground, breath fading. He was sinking much quicker now, the spell barely having any effect on him. He quietly thanked the angel for the cold kiss of death, it was much better this way. And so, he let the darkness drag him down, into a peaceful slumber. He took one more sweet breath, and died.

_________________

Everything changed.

Dean knew he was awake, but in all the times he had died before, it had never felt like this. He’d never been conscious.

To add to the strangeness of it all, Dean couldn’t seem to feel his body. Usually in any form of the afterlife he’d experienced, he was always renewed, reborn into his physical self. It was like he’d just been transported to somewhere other than earth, but this was different.

The first change he noticed was his senses. Smell, taste, they were dulled, if not nonexistent. They had no use here — wherever here was. But he could still hear, feel, and see.

What his nonexistent eyes saw made no sense to his newly awakened mind, nor did the feeling of weightlessness or the silence. He could only equate it to floating. To make his surroundings make sense, he envisioned himself in an ocean. He was immersed in it, a soothing hum pulling him along in a current towards an infinite, vast landscape of bubbling color. A sea of hues flowed before him, stretching above, below, and around him, enveloping him in a living, moving stream of lights.

It was fascinating, the aurora dancing around him, through him, as if it didn’t realize his existence. Somehow, Dean knew this was one single entity, that for some reason, hadn’t noticed him yet. It was gentle, no malice in it’s touch, though the power imbued in every strand of its being was tangible. Dean was awed. He didn’t understand it, but Dean felt safe, knew he wouldn’t be hurt anymore. He basked in the feeling for a moment that lengthened into what seemed like years. Time was not important. For all Dean knew, it could’ve been decades.

Slowly but surely memories trickled back to him. Dean leisurely recollected the horrors of his death, merely glad that he was here now. That pain was over. But a sense of urgency shook him from his lethargy. Sam was still out there and Cas was too. The witch was still after them. Dean had to get back, which brought back the question: where was he?

Dean knew Cas had taken his soul, but he didn’t quite know what that meant. He’d never really thought about it, just imagined that having his soul taken by anything was horrendous and one of the worst fates one could possibly experience. He’d envisioned, as he’d seen with Amara, that one would be devoured, essence consumed and then… nothing. After burning in a living prison for eternity, the threads stitching your soul together unraveling, one would become nothing. It was a truly chilling thought.

Dean looked around, or felt like he was looking around. Everything was identical in every direction. He still didn’t understand it. Around him was alive, he just knew it, but it looked like nothing he could recognize. There wasn’t much he could do, except one thing.

_ Cas?  _ Dean had no mouth to speak from, but his mind was still there.  _ Castiel? _ His voice echoed outward, reverberating and bouncing back at him. To his alarm, his voice rippled through the strange lights, the waves of sound undulated across the changing colors, sending a continuous pulse through his surroundings that reached farther than he could see. Dean froze.

There was a moment of dread as Dean felt the light come alive around him, feeling his presence, studying his every atom in an uncomfortably intimate brush of curiosity. The lights after a moment danced excitedly, like a dog wagging its tail. Dean could feel its enthusiasm, white and hot like fire. Then relief flooded him.

**_Dean!_ ** Cas’s voice washed over him, not his vessel’s voice, his real voice. It was as overwhelming as it was soothing. The combination of different pitches and tones confused Dean, but the word was clear.

_ Cas?! Where are you?  _ Dean couldn’t keep the emotion from his voice, he seemed unable to, all confusion and fear leaving him at once.  _ What’s going on? Cas I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I’m looking at. Where the hell am I?! _

Dean felt small, absolutely miniscule. Cas was the only familiar thing in this new alien world, and he needed something to hold onto — desperately. 

**_Dean…_ ** The light stroked him softly, surprising him.  **_Do not be afraid. You are safe now._ **

Dean was surprised the effect Cas’s words had on him. He immediately felt calmer, less panicked.  _ What is this? Why am I…  _ Dean didn’t even know how to describe it.

**_Oh,_ ** Realization dawned on Cas, guilt coldly flooding around Dean,  **_I didn’t realize you were conscious... I forgot you can’t see the way I do. I’m made of multidimensional wavelengths. Humans can perceive very few dimensions, so you can only really see light waves, which, depending on their frequency differ in color_ ** —

_ Wait…  _ Dean interrupted him, shock and utter confusion clouding his mind,  _ You’re telling me  _ —  _ this giant rainbow sea thing… this is you!? _

Cas’s confusion bled through the air,  **_Rainbow? Um… well yes._ **

Dean didn’t know what to think of that. It fascinated and horrified him at the same time.  _ D-Does that mean you…  _ Dean shuddered as he thought of Amara again. Cas seemed to read his thoughts and repulsion immediately filled the air.

**_No! I would never Dean — that is horrid! I’ve merely kept your soul in my grace. Your essence and mine are flowing one in the same._ **

One in the same… hearing it seemed to make Dean aware of just how close him and Cas were now. They were as close as they could be, grace and soul. If Dean stopped, he could focus on the angel around him, feel what he felt, hear what he thought. It was a new and strange idea. Dean wondered, could Cas sense the same from him?

An affirmative pull from Cas solidified his thought.  _ Wow… this is… I don’t know… but — dude that’s awesome!  _ As much as it terrified Dean that someone could see inside his head, he had to admit that the whole thing was rather badass. Cas in general was badass and nothing would convince him otherwise.

Cas made what could only be described as a laugh. It rippled warmly across his grace, humming through Dean like a pleasant buzz.  _ Man that feels weird. _

**_Apologies. Here, this should ease your mind._ ** __ Before Dean could respond, his world shifted. The light around him folded, inverting before his not-eyes. The colors wavered, swimming as it twisted in a stream inward and spread further and further until it solidified. Objects became descenable around him: dirt, trees, grass, sky. In a flash Dean was standing amidst a sea of golden grass, their warmth soaked strands basking in the light of the setting sun. He gasped, sucking in a breath of sweet air. He looked down in surprise. There was his hands and feet. He reached up and touched his face, making sure it was all there. He blinked, laughing with joy as he felt the breeze on his skin.

“Better?” Dean looked up at the deep voice. Castiel was standing there, a couple yards away, hands stuffed into his coat pockets and familiar hair and tie rustling with the honey expanse. A warm smile spread on the angel’s face. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean didn’t respond. All he could do was stare, dragging his gaze over Cas’s peaceful form. It felt like forever since he’d seen his friend without the fear of torture and death. Overwhelmed by a sudden urge. Dean ran to him, unashamed.  It took several strides but finally Dean leapt at him, and wrapped him in a hug.

Cas was taken by surprise, but it quickly melted away, his hands steadily wrapping around Dean’s torso. Dean relaxed as the angel pressed his head into the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean never wanted to let go, deeply breathing in Cas’s homely scent.

Dean didn’t know why, but he couldn’t control the joy he felt, pure and impossible joy. His emotions were elevated and so were those he felt from Cas. In this raw state, everything was heightened, vibrant, and Dean loved it. 

It was an odd sensation, but Dean could feel a strange warmth from where Cas touched him. His fingers, dug into Dean’s jacket, seemed to spread like wildfire, everywhere at once. Dean was overwhelmed, but in a good way.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean smiled around the angel’s name, “God, I missed you so fucking much!” On earth, Dean rarely said anything with as much enthusiasm as he did now. Something about this situation made him unable to hold back anymore.

Cas’s voice was quiet with sincerity, “I… I missed you too.”

Neither of them let go. It’d been too long since they’d had such a moment. Dean wanted to soak in it forever, because by god he loved the angel. He loved him with every fiber of his being. Castiel tensed. Dean looked down at him with concern, then remembered again, that his thoughts weren’t private here.

“You — You weren’t lying. You weren’t just saying it to…” Cas’s voice trailed off, emotion choking him. Dean could feel his hesitation, all his doubt and uncertainty. It was far greater than he’d realized. It suddenly shocked Dean, that he never knew just how much Cas had been holding back and how blind he had been to Castiel’s struggles. Dean should’ve known that one's outward appearance didn’t always speak the truth of the turmoil one concealed. Cas had only learned from the best the art of avoidance and false contentment. But there was so much the angel was still afraid of, so many questions that he had that he kept to himself in an attempt to follow humans’ strange unspoken rules. Dean dug deeper into those feelings and saw beneath them. Cas gasped in alarm but let him in.

Dean saw a pure spirit, not unstained or without flaws but one that tried its best to be good. All Castiel wanted was to help and protect and to love. In Dean’s opinion, Castiel had accomplished all three.

Cas suddenly drew back, his blue eyes wide with surprise and gratefulness. “Dean…” The angel struggled to keep the emotion from his voice but Dean just smiled.

“Yes Cas… I wasn’t lying. I would never lie to you about that,” Dean leaned forward, landing a soft kiss on Cas’s cheek. “Yes Cas… I love you,” he whispered gently into his ear, “I’m sorry… that I didn’t realized, that you had to wait for so long.”

A wet laugh escaped Cas, the sound music to Dean’s ears. The angel rested a hand on his cheek, gazing into his eyes with all the warmth of a summer sun. “For you Dean… I could wait a millenia. The stars could die and the universe unravel and I would still wait for you. You do not know Dean Winchester what I see in you. You cannot understand how much you have changed me. And if you’d let me…” Cas let his hand drop to Dean’s shoulder, caressing the spot where they had first met, the handprint lingering under his skin. “If you’d let me,” Cas repeated, “I will love you for eternity.”

Dean had no words. His eyes filled with tears but his mouth was empty. Dean didn’t expect to hear such beautiful words used towards him. He never thought anyone could love him to the extent Cas was saying. He couldn’t believe it, but he knew it was true. He could feel it in the air, see it in Cas’s eyes, sense it in his touch. There was nothing they could hide here. It was all laid out in front of him, crystal clear for the very first time.

Dean tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing, attempting to respond in the same elegant way but Dean couldn’t find the words. But Cas would know what he meant, Dean knew. Cas could feel his love, as much as Dean could feel his.

“Cas…” he started, “I didn’t think it was possible for you… to feel the way you do. I’m just a man and you,” Dean huffed, “You’re an angel. You’ve seen the making of the universe. You’ve seen stars die, humanity rise and fall… Of all the things in the universe… Why me?”

It was an honest question. Dean didn’t understand. The universe was so vast and filled with so many marvelous things… of all things to chain himself to, Dean should be the last of them. Cas just smiled, “Oh Dean… never underestimate the value of love. In my many years I can tell you that it is one of rarest and most precious gifts God has made. The universe is not lacking in beauty, but I believe it would be a much more wonderful place if only it had more love.”

Dean felt the words surround him, wrap him in a flowery embrace, laced with pure and genuine affection. It was a wonder Dean didn’t melt into it, let it take him completely in a moment of utter bliss.

“Cas…” Dean wanted to return those words, let the angel know how much Dean valued them, like diamonds in his heart. “Cas I love you and I want you to always remember that. I know I can be a mess and an idiot, but I’ll never not care about you. I don’t want you to leave Cas —”

Cas just chuckled, hand rubbing his arm soothingly. “It’s okay Dean… I know.” The angel held his gaze for another moment, making sure Dean understood, “I know…”

They both stayed silent, anymore things they wanted to say in that moment were conveyed not through words, but through touch. Finally, Dean allowed himself the freedom of intimacy. He knew the dangers of it and how much pain it could bring but he didn’t care — not anymore. When again would he have this moment? When again would he find someone who loved him as much as Castiel? He wouldn't. No one could could share what they had. Their moments together: in Heaven, in Hell, in Purgatory, on earth, could not be replaced, nor the bond they created between them.

Dean moved closer, resting his forehead against his angel’s, eyes refusing to part. He took him in, even in this artificial place, he was perfect. His wise eyes oceans deep, his hair soft as feather down, his skin warm and toned with the sun’s light. It was but a vessel, but to Dean it would always be Cas. No matter what form, Dean would always love him.

Without worry and desperation, no frantic last goodbyes or pleas, Dean kissed him. The angel smiled under his lips, their kiss one of lasting gratitude, a promise. It went for a long time, no worries plaguing their thoughts. It was a kiss that conveyed more than any words Dean could say.

The angel’s facade darkened around them, the sun sinking, leaving a last ray of gold on the rolling seas of grain. And so they stayed, wrapped in each other as the night awakened and the phantom stars ascended into the heavens, twinkling like the light of an angel's wings.

_________________

“So,” Dean hopped up onto the first stepping stone, “You’re telling me that Heaven is powered by grace?” He hopped to the next stone, one by one, balancing with arms out in a childish sort of playfulness.

“Yes,” Cas stood on the bank of the river, watching as Dean crossed the water, hopping from foot to foot. “Heaven is powered by angels. Our grace is used the same way I’m using mine now. We can create any false images that we wish depending on the occupants memories.”

Dean’s feet hit the grass as he finally crossed to the other side, “I don’t remember this place.” He turned to face the angel on the other side.

“Because this is from my memories, not yours.” Cas stepped forward, ignoring the stepping stones altogether, walking right across the water, droplets shifting around the black of his shoes. Dean stared with brow furrowed as the angel approached him until he settled on the grass in front of him.

“Show off,” he muttered, turning to continue down the path that lay in front of them. The angel smirked and followed.

“So one more question —” Dean waved a single finger in the air.

“You said that last time,” Cas rolled his eyes.

“Well I made no promises,” Dean shrugged, “So… how did we  _ not  _ turn into toast whenever we saw you? I mean — I thought humans couldn’t survive looking at an angel’s true form.”

“You can’t, not when we are at full power,” Cas’s mood sombered, “But after the fall, after everything… no angel will ever be the same. I don’t think we can ever restore ourselves fully to what we once were. Although I am very much healed now it is not the same as when I was first created.”

“Oh…” Dean said quietly, looking ahead at the long path through the green trees ahead. He coughed, turning a toothy grin to the angel next to him, “Alright then, how about this profound bond thing we have going on. How the hell does that work?”

“That’s two questions, Dean,” the angel deadpanned. There was annoyance in his voice but his eyes told a different story. Cas sighed, “I didn’t think it’d be important before… or that you’d want to know.”

“Is that why you never told me? Because I’ve been thinking, having telepathy with you could’ve helped us with  _ so  _ many problems. Just think. I could’ve annoyed you until you came out of hiding in Purgatory, I could’ve plain asked you if we were low on bacon in the Bunker so I wouldn’t have to get up and look…” Cas turned his stare to Dean, eyebrow raised. “Okay, fine, fine. You keep talking.”

Cas nodded, taking a deep breath he didn’t need. “When I first touched you in Hell, I knew that there would be certain... side effects, our bond being one of them. But I knew it was temporary, that it would fade with time. I never expected you to actually sustain it.”

“Well how did I do that?”

“You chose me, whether you realized it or not, your soul was… curious you could say. You strengthened it, and it’s only grown over the years... I underestimated you. I never expected any human to… befriend something like me. I never thought you’d care. Funny that you asked me why I chose you, because I can ask you the same question.” Cas caught Dean’s eyes, a warm appreciation in them. “Then I realized Dean, it was in your nature to love.” The angel smiled, “You saw something in me. Whatever it was, I’m glad you decided not to give up on me.”

Dean rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, a blush forming on his cheeks, “Aw well,” he coughed, “I’m glad I didn’t too…” They walked on together, underneath the cover of the trees, sun melting through the bright green leaves, speckling them with yellow light.

“So…” Cas spoke up though the silence, his smile slipping, “Shall I tell you what’s going on now?”

Dean swallowed. He knew this peace could only last so long. Cas had warned him that although he could manipulate time in this space of mind, that he could not slow it forever. There was still Sam and the witch to deal with, the outside world. They had taken some time for themselves, now it was time to wake up.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, “Shoot.”

Cas led them off the trodden trail, taking Dean by the hand until the stopped at a small pond, lily pads spread across its surface, birds dozing as they bobbed on the water. Cas didn’t let go of Dean’s hand. “I’ve hidden in the hills for now. I was able to outrun her, to hide myself. What link she’s forged between me and her is now muffled. It’s still there — annoying, but not a threat for now.”

“How’d you manage to shake it? The spell I mean. Of all times to overcome it… I’ll be honest I thought the fight was over.”

Cas was silent for a moment, eyes downcast to a bird as it lifted its wings to preen. “When I first tried to… to take you, I managed to tap into some of the energy from your soul. You were surprisingly willingly which is why I think it worked. It took a while to process but it seemed to have kicked in at the right time… otherwise things would’ve been much worse.”

Dean processed this information, rolling it over in his head and filling in the gaps. “Okay… you’re still getting energy from my soul then — to hold off the witch.”

Cas tensed, but nodded curtly, “I’m not taking anything directly, souls give off energy like flames give off heat. I am merely taking what is expended.”

“But you also said that I was giving you energy willingly…”

Cas avoided his gaze, releasing his hand and turning to look out over the water, “That you are… and that is your choice. I cannot control that.”

Dean smiled reassuringly, “Cas that’s nothing to be guilty about. Like you said it’s my choice, even if I’m not fully aware of it.”

Cas glanced at him then back at the water, “I know it’s just — I’ve never wanted to meddle with your soul. I know how much you value your freedom and I wished to stay faithful to that.”

“And you did,” Dean gently placed a hand on his arm, “You’ve been as kind and loyal as any person can be to me. None of this is on you — none of this is your fault. Do you understand me?” Dean kept his eyes steady, sustaining his gaze until Cas finally gave in, meeting his. There was doubt in them. “Understand me?” Dean asked again, softer this time. Cas nodded, maintaining his blue stare. “Good,” Dean patted his shoulder. “Now,” he planted his hands in his pockets, “One, how do we kill the witch and two, how do we get me back to my body?”

Cas frowned, thinking. “I cannot harm the witch — not with the blade still with her. If we managed to steal it somehow then I should be able to destroy her. As for your body, that won’t be a problem. I just need to find it, mend it and place your soul back where it belongs.”

“Great,” Dean said, “Simple — maybe.”

“Getting the blade may be difficult but it will be far easier without me well…”

“Trying to smite my ass?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, “Precisely.”

Dean nodded, satisfied. He took a deep breath, glancing to Cas. “So, when it’s all done, what do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” Cas tilted his head and Dean smirked at the familiar gesture.

“I mean,” Dean shrugged, nervousness that he knew Cas could sense eating at him, “Do you want to stay? I mean really stay — I’ll cook for you in the Bunker or we could, I don’t know, binge your favorite TV show, whatever...” Dean looked up hopefully and saw that Cas was staring at him dumbfounded, “I like it when you stay Cas…” After a moment, Dean opened his mouth to continue but Cas spoke suddenly.

“I always thought you wanted your personal space.” It was said with such confusion that it took Dean by surprise. “I stayed while I was welcome and  knew you liked having me but if I wasn’t being useful in some way I thought it better to leave you alone.”

“What? No — Cas I hated when you left.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” Dean couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “Dude just because we weren’t always trying to save the world or being  _ useful _ , whatever that means, doesn’t mean I didn’t want you there… You really didn’t know?”

Cas nodded. That confirmation draped a sadness over Dean that made his heart ache and reminded him just how much he had missed. There was so much about Cas that he still had yet to discover, so much he’d been blind to. He’d wasted these last few years. There was so much he could’ve learned if he had only asked and listened.

“Okay,” Dean dragged a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “First thing we’re doing after this is clearing some things up. I’ve obviously been terrible at communicating.”

“Oh no Dean, you’ve been very good at telling me things. Like how to tie my tie, how much ketchup you like on your burger, how to comb my hair —”

Dean smiled at Cas’s attempt to defend him. It was adorable, which Dean found ironic considering that Cas was the equivalent of a thousand foot tall, battle ready skyscraper. “Cas,” he held his hand up, “It’s okay you don’t need to defend me. Though I appreciate the effort.”

“Oh,” Cas looked down, embarrassed, “My apologies.”

Dean shook his head, “You don’t need to say sorry to me. If anything, I’m the one who should be saying sorry.” Cas turned to him curious. “You’ve done so much for me Cas and I don’t think I’ve ever given you a proper thank you…” The angel’s face lit up, his features softening. “You’ve sacrificed everything to keep the world safe, your life, your wings, your kin. And I know all of those things hurt, and sometimes it didn’t go the way you wanted… But you always tried to do the right thing… and I think in this universe Cas… that’s what’ counts.”

Castiel laughed. It was strange for Dean to witness. He realized he had never seen the angel truly laugh before. He liked it, he decided. “What’s so funny?” He smiled.

Cas grinned back, the lines of his mouth and eyes wrinkling warmly, “Oh just that all that you’ve said — I would say the same to you.”

Dean chuckled at that, “Ah I guess we’re just a couple of dumbasses.”

Cas smirked, “I’d prefer more couple, less ass.”

Dean snorted, prepared to retort with a rather tasteless joke when Cas froze. Dean’s smile fell. “Cas what’s wrong?” The life around them suddenly stopped, paused, as if everything had simultaneously turned to ice. The sun darkened, the sunny pond becoming ominous in the low light. “Cas?” In the angel’s eyes was a glimmer of grace, glowing blue pin pricks shining from the back of his retinas.

Fear pounded Dean’s heart, his hands shooting out to grab Cas by the arms, repeating the angel’s name. Cas gasped a great breath of air, the grace in his eyes receding, relief flooding Dean’s worried mind. Dean waited, staring at Cas until the angel finally gained his barings. When Castiel met his eyes, Dean raised his eyebrows in a question. The angel opened his mouth, speaking two words.

“It’s Sam.”


	11. Rise and Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Lazarus to rise again.

**October 13th: 3:48 am**

Sam’s shoes crunched the dirt under his feet. It squelched as the water splashed onto his already ruined boots. The rain had given no retreat, pounding relentlessly against his weary form. His footsteps led him back towards the safe haven, the poor little shack a pathetic excuse for shelter. In his hand he held a few strands of lavender, the purple flowers the only color that were visible in the night. It’d been dark for so long now, Sam yearned for the light of the sun, something bright and warm. He just wanted comfort.

The lavender hadn’t been too hard to find. Sam was surprised to not encounter any wendigo that had only recently been crawling about like a plague of locusts. The witch must have sent them away, Sam thought. She’d promised to kill him after Dean. Maybe she wanted a more cruel end for him. Maybe she had just left him here, trapped in this place, to starve and suffer alone with his brother’s corpse until he finally laid down and died from hunger, thirst, fatigue or a broken heart. Even if she meant to keep him here, Sam would still escape, that he was determined. Then he would return with a way to kill her if it took him the rest of his miserable life.

Sam finally passed the threshold of the entrance, closing the rotting wood door behind him and dragging his way back to the bed beside the window. He ignored the accompanying body, still lifeless on the tattered mattress. The smell was beginning to hang in the air but Sam shoved that problem to the back of his mind. He needed to focus, he needed to finish this as soon as possible. For Dean and for Cas. Sam repeated the mantra in his head, over and over as he prepared the spell.

Sam used a small burnt wooden box as his bowl, it was the best he could salvage from the ashes of the village. He placed the paper with the spell and the spell components on the floor beside the box. He muttered the spell one more time, making sure he spoke all the words without error. Then he withdrew a sharp stone from his boot. He no longer had any weapons at his disposal, so he had to improvise, taking a rock from the shards scattered across the desert. He rolled up his bloody jacket sleeve.

He took a deep breath as he raised his arm, flexing his muscles to make the blood flow. Without further hesitation he swiftly sliced the rock across his flesh. It stung, but he squeezed his fist, the blood dribbling down, red against black. He lowered his arm where it continued to flow freely, he had nothing to cover it with and he was far beyond caring. He dropped the rock, grabbing the strands of Dean’s hair and throwing them into the blood.  Next was the lavender, his fingers gingerly wrapping around the stems. He stared at them, their little petals haloed with the glow of the moon. They were such delicate things, as beautiful things often were.

Sam paused, he knew this was the final ingredient, the last element before all that was left were words. Words that would seal Cas away, words that would break his heart, words that had to be spoken. Sam closed his eyes, crushing the lavender in his hands, “For Dean and for Cas.” The petals and leaves floated down like feathers, resting atop the shining liquid before they were dragged under, drowning in red. Sam’s lip quivered as he let the petals fall and reached with a shaky hand to the note on the ground. After this it was final, after this… Dean and Cas would be gone, there was no going back.

The words of the spell began to swim before his eyes but Sam persevered. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and began to speak. “Tua fortitudo recedes... et potentia fades, in hac terra manere…” A light out of the corner of his eye made him pause.

Sam stared at it, curiosity and fear making him freeze. The light was just a point in the distance. Its rays bled through the cracks of the wall and stayed there. Sam didn’t move.

A multitude of possible monsters rolled through Sam’s mind, the list quickly shortened to only a few options, and one seemed to be extremely likely. Oh no, no, no, if he was caught then he couldn’t return for Cas. The angel would be forced to wait god knew how many centuries before someone returned to this place.

The light moved closer. “Shit, shit, shit!” Sam spit out, the light coming at lightning speed towards the little shack. “Donec ego levo,” the light was blinding now, “hoc maledictum, et —” A ringing blasted Sam’s ears, overwhelming him and causing him to fall to the ground. Sam peeled his eyes open and was horrified to see his bloody wards sizzling away like water. “Ponam te!” He tried to continue, voice lost in the blinding light and sound. “NO CAS!” Sam finally screamed, “STOP! I’M DOING THIS FOR YOU — LET ME HELP YOU!”

A loud bang shook the frame of the house. Sam looked up in despair to see the warding completely gone, “No, no, no…” Sam pushed himself off the floor, turning to face the light now pouring in from the door, “Cas, I’m sorry.”

Sam saw as the angel’s form manifested, swirling grace settling into a miniature version of his true form, still towering over Sam.

“Tua fortitudo recedes et potentia fades,” Sam started again, rushing through the words, “in hac terra manere, donec ego levo —”

 **_“STOP!”_ ** Castiel’s voice ravaged Sam’s eardrums. Sam shook his head, knowing this had to be done, “hoc maledictum, et ponam —”

 _“SAM! Sam, listen to him!”_ The voice made Sam stop in his tracks, eyes wide. He couldn’t see it’s source but the only place he could stare was at Cas. “ _Hey I know this doesn’t make any sense right now, but it’s okay. I’m okay Sammy.”_

“Dean?” his voice was soft, a breathless hope.

 _“Yeah little brother it’s me… “_ Sam knew he shouldn’t believe it, that this could easily be a trick but hearing his brother’s voice again was like water after years of drought.

“W-where are you?” Sam’s mind was in shock. He’ been so certain Dean was dead, had accepted it and prepared to live his life with the memory and the guilt. This couldn’t be real.

 _“Oh um…”_ Dean’s voice faded briefly, “ _Cas, how does this work?”_

In response, Sam watched the angel move, unfurling a clawed hand that had been hidden at his side. The room was filled with a brilliant warm light. Sam galked as the golden sun hovered in the angel’s hand, strands of amber swirling around its balled form, partly curling around Cas’s claws in a playful dance, contrasting the blue of the angel’s grace. It was unmistakable, even though Sam had only seen it once before: Dean’s soul.

Sam was speechless. He had no idea what to do besides stare and take in the joy and relief of seeing his brother’s essence safe and sound in front of him. Castiel’s eyes admired the light in his palm before raising to meet Sam’s gaze. “ **_Let me put him back Sam.”_ **

It took a minute to comprehend what Cas was asking. He had so many questions, so much he wanted to know. But for now, he turned, looking down at Dean’s body. “Do it,” he said without hesitation, quelling the desperate excitement in his voice.

The angel glided across the room, serene blue hovering to rest beside Dean’s bed. The angel gently raised his other hand, resting his claws against Dean’s cold and pale face. Sam watched with fascination as Castiel lowered Dean’s soul, the golden glow melting into Dean’s chest. It flickered, his soul settling before spreading, white light splaying across his body and growing in intensity. It grew and grew until Sam was forced to close his eyes.

The ring of grace was bearable this time, a pleasant buzz humming through the air. It’s song faded with the burst of light that enveloped Dean’s body. Hesitantly, Sam opened his eyes.

He stared wide eyed at Dean who still lay unmoving, holding his breath. The angel continued to hold a hand to his cheek, the tides of light curling back from where it touched Dean’s face. Then, like a snowflake falling to rest on his skin, Cas leaned down and gently kissed his brother’s forehead. “ **_Wake up.”_ **

Dean gasped. Sam watched his eyes fly open, sucking air into his stagnant lungs, muscles convulsing as his frozen limbs finally awakened from their deep slumber. He sat up, taking in deep, shaky breaths as the color returned to his face, the cold of death melting away as his blood flowed back through his veins. Sam watched in utter amazement.

Dean took a moment, eyes unfocused until he steadied his breathing. His gaze first landed on Cas, and the sudden warmth Sam saw in his eyes made him feel like he was intruding. A wide smile broke across Dean’s face and he laughed. It was pure sunshine.

Then Sam found Dean’s eyes on him. Sam froze under their stare. He thought he’d never see life in those eyes again, thought he’d have to live without his big brother who’d always been there for him. But now he was here again and everything seemed right in the world.

“Well,” Dean’s voice broke the silence, a grin on his face, “That was one hell of an acid trip.”

Sam was smiling, then laughing, then crying. He rushed forward and embraced Dean still sitting on the bed. “Dean,” the relief in his voice made the name crack as he spoke. Sam felt a huff of breath as Dean smiled, his brother’s arms tightly wrapping around his shoulders.

From over Dean’s shoulder, Sam watched Castiel approach, the angel seemed to descend, the swirling grace around him solidifying and condensing. It didn’t make sense to Sam until he discerned a human shape in the glowing mist. Then suddenly, the mist was gone and there was Castiel, messy hair, trenchcoat and all.

Cas met Sam’s eyes, shame and doubt showing in the curve of his brow and the widening of his eyes. For a moment, he just stood there, hands balled nervously at his sides, waiting. Sam knew Cas felt horrible, but if Cas had heard his prayer, then he should know that he was not to blame. He didn’t know what happened with Dean and Cas, but for now, he was just glad to have his family back. “Oh come here,” Sam waved a hand at Cas, smiling when the angel’s expression relaxed. He made his way over and Sam reached out his arm, pulling Cas into a hug. Cas was awkward at first, slowly wrapping an arm around Sam and then Dean, but then he melted, comfort relaxing his tense shoulders.

“I thought I’d lost you both,” Sam whispered.

Cas’s gruff voice rumbled between them, “I know, I’m sorry —”

“No…” Dean cut him off, pulling back from their circle, facing the angel, “Don’t be sorry… be thankful.” Dean’s hand came to rest on the angel’s neck, thumb gently stroking the skin there. Sam eyed them both, eyebrows raised in question, but neither of them seemed to notice.

“I-I know you both don’t blame me but —”

“Shhhh,” Dean leaned forward, hand turning Cas’s face towards him before planting a gentle kiss on his lips. “Not your fault,” Dean said.

Well… that answered Sam’s question. He coughed loudly, drawing their attention. “So…” he sat back on his heels, a smug look on his face, “Eight years — nothing. But you’re dead one day and suddenly your boyfriends. Nice timing there Dean.” His brother’s face reddened while Cas looked down to hide his smile. Dean worked his lips trying to think of a comeback. Sam crossed his arms, waiting.

“Yeah well…” Dean sat up straighter, pointing a finger at him. After a minute of struggling he finally sighed and slumped, shrugging, “You know what — you got me, I’m an idiot.”

“Good to finally hear you admit that.” Dean shot him a glare, but their standoff quickly softened. “I’m glad to have you back — jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean huffed. Sam shook his head, resting his hands on his knees, taking it all in.

He finally sighed, “How did you do it? I mean —” He glanced back and forth between them, “Cas… how are you not trying to kill us right now — and how did you get Dean’s soul?”

“Oh well…” Dean looked back to Cas, “That’s a bit of a long story.”

Cas’s brow furrowed, face returning to its stony seriousness. “I - yes… it may seem odd for you.”

“It’s not like we don’t live strange lives,” Sam returned.  Cas sighed, sliding to sit on the bed next to Dean, Sam standing to sit across from them on his bed. The explanation went quickly, Sam only asking a few questions here and there, his confusion and realization of his unnecessary grief frustrated him but he couldn’t be too angry — he had his brothers back. That was the only thing in the world he wanted.

“So Dean was able to get through to you after all,” Sam stated with a smile of disbelief, so glad that his depressing realism had been wrong. He’d been so sure that whatever Cas and Dean had wouldn’t have been enough, the spell was bigger and stronger than anything either of them had ever experienced, the added factor of their freaky mind meld had drained Sam’s hope of getting out of this with both of them intact. Sam had underestimated them, he should know from all they’ve done that they would never part, they would give up everything but each other, even if it meant Heaven, Hell and everything in between. “So does that mean the spell is gone? And the witch?”

Castiel’s frown deepened, hands clenched together in his lap. He breathed deeply, eyes set on him, “No, the spell is still intact. No, the witch is not gone.”

Cold once again washed over him. It was then that Sam noticed the tenseness in the angel’s stance and the small vein in his temple trembling. It wasn’t over yet. Sam stammered out, “I don’t understand — I thought Dean’s soul gave you enough energy.”

“I used his energy yes — but it might cause permanent damage if I were to take more than what he was giving me… I didn’t want to hurt him.”

Dean turned towards the angel, concern suddenly imminent in his eyes, “Cas… you’re still resisting the spell…” Cas hesitantly met Dean’s gaze. A moment passed  in a silent exchange that caused a change in Dean's expression, his eyes flaring. “Why did you stop?! Cas you need my soul — use it!!” he exclaimed angrily, standing abruptly.

“Dean, I’ve drained you enough. Anymore and there will be physical repercussions.”

“I can take it Cas! The spell is building again isn’t it? You’re hiding it from me, I can tell.  Cas… this is important, I know you don’t want to hurt me, but I’m not taking any chances. Until we find a way to kill her, I need to keep you charged, got it?” Dean placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder and raised his eyebrows. Cas’s shoulders slumped and he nodded tersely. “Okay then,” Dean sat back down again, “So do you need to do something or is it all up here?” Dean tapped his temple.

Cas sighed, “I just need to be touching you.” A smirk ghosted Dean’s lips.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” He reached out and laid a hand on Cas’s thigh. Sam coughed loudly again, Dean just winked. Cas ignored them and continued, placing his hand over Dean’s.

“I will not do it at this moment,” Cas explained, stubbornness clear in the sharpness of his expression.

“And why not?” Dean frowned.

“It will exhaust you so I will not use you until it is absolutely necessary.”

“What so you’re just gonna wait until it gets so bad you can’t even think straight?”

“Essentially, yes.” Cas squeezed Dean’s hand, begging him to trust him. Dean eventually sighed, reaching up to pull back a strand of hair that had stuck out of its orderly mess.

“Okay Cas… if you say so.”

“Thank you,” Cas said sincerely, holding his gaze for a moment longer. He closed his eyes, jaw clenched as he squeezed Dean’s hand tighter.

“Hey, you okay?” Sam beat Dean to the question.

“She’s still trying to find me…” Cas whispered, “I think she’s calling for help now.”

“What does that mean?”

Cas looked up at him, “Monsters… she’s getting help from monsters.”

“But the wendigo — they disappeared.”

“Because she’d sent them to find me.”

“Isn’t it kinda hard to miss a glowing skyscraper with wings?” Dean scoffed.

“I had enough energy to shift planes — they could not have found me no matter how hard they tried.”

“And now?” Sam asked.

Cas pursed his lips, forming a thin line, “Now… I think they saw my light… She’s returning here as we speak.”

Sam sucked in a breath, running his hands over his face, “What do we do?” There was a beat of silence, hope wavering before Dean spoke.

“We fight,” Dean stood tall, face hardening as he faced them both, “Like we always do.”

Sam sighed, “But how?”

“You had a spell didn’t you?” Dean walked over to the half finished spellwork, “Cas heard your prayer — he knew you had something planned. If you were gonna use it on Cas, can’t you also use it for the witch?”

Sam stared at him, mouth agape. Of course, he had considered it before, but it hadn’t been an option at the time. He stared down at his arm, still bleeding steadily from the stone. “The spell is meant to trap a creature in a certain area and weaken it…” Sam looked up to Cas, eyes pleading, “I’m so sorry but it would’ve been the only way to ensure she couldn’t use you to —”

“It’s okay Sam,” Cas reached out and placed a hand on Sam’s arm, “I understand.” Sam felt a rush of grace warm his veins. It spread quickly, sewing the skin of his arm and easing the pain in his shoulder. He relaxed, pain evaporating from his body.

“Thanks,” Sam nodded, “But would that work? I’m not sure how much it’ll weaken her, but would it be enough for you to kill her Cas?”

Cas lowered his hand, shaking his head, “I’m not sure if I could resist her at such close proximity… not when the spell is still in place and the blade so close.”

“So that’s it,” Dean’s eyes brightened, “We get the blade —I knew it! That’s the source of the spell isn’t it.”

Cas nodded, “Yes. If she was disarmed, theoretically, I would be able to finish her.” A flash of anger crossed the angel’s features, “I’d very much like to.”

“That’s it then,” Dean clapped his hands, “We weaken her, then get the blade from her. The you can smite her to hell.”

“That’s not a very solid plan,” Sam deadpanned, “Last time you tried that you ended up dead.”

“Of course it is,” Dean crossed his arms, “We have the advantage this time.”

“But Cas can’t help us fight.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Ye of little faith,” he teased, “Who says he has to be close to fight?”

Cas and Sam looked at him confused. “Are you saying you have an idea?” Cas tilted his head curiously.

Dean smirked, confidence rising in his chest, “Oh I’ve got an idea alright… but you’re not gonna like it.”

_________________

 

The plains of the vast desert were quiet. It was eery how fast chaos had returned to silence. The rain was lighter now, a steady thrum on the parched earth, an uneven rhythm that drummed continuous urgency into Dean’s skin.

Dean wove hastily through the bare trees scattered along the cliffside, rising steadily with each thud of his boots. His eyes roamed restlessly, taking in as much as they could in the half-second glances. He couldn’t risk being interrupted. His destination was set in front of him and he needed to reach it as soon as possible. He momentarily stared at the spot of interest, still several hundred feet ahead. It was an agonizing climb but it would be worth it if this worked out.

The smell of burnt wood filled his nose, the ashen residue rising in the air as the rain imbued it into the ground. He coughed into his sleeve as the stench became too much. His legs and lungs burned but his spirit carried him on.

 **_Almost there?_ ** Castiel’s worried voice echoed in his mind.

_Yeah Cas — it’s just a long climb. Is she getting close?_

**_Yes, she’s following me. And nothing from Sam, she mustn’t have noticed him._ **

_Good,_ Dean hastened his steps, _How are you holding up?_

**_I’m fine. It’s just becoming harder to avoid her on the ground._ **

_Just a bit longer Cas, almost there._

His breathing was heavy but he never slowed. After several minutes, it finally came into view. The space before him flattened out, dipping as the landscape descended away from the cliff, the groves of cacti now burnt to a crisp.

Dean relaxed, catching his breath as he reached out to Cas, _I’m here. Go._

Dean turned to stand along the cliff edge, eyes roaming the stretch of desert before him, the river winding past the village onward beyond his view. He watched with bated breath as he waited. After a minute, he saw it.

The light was small at first, a blip of radiance nagging at Dean’s cornea. But it grew, white stretching upward from within the village, swirling upward and into the night sky. From there it spread, grace flowing outward in all directions to wrap around itself and form the most beautiful thing Dean has ever seen. Castiel rose, six wings extending in harmony as they carried him effortlessly towards the heavens. Grace spilled around his now solid form, flowing like water across his feathers to cascade behind him like the tail of a comet. The galaxy of his wings mesmerized, the glow of his body hypnotizing Dean into a daze as his heart filled with gratitude and amazement.

The angel drew closer, banking to head straight for Dean’s direction. He was impossibly fast, filling Dean’s view before he had time to blink. Castiel met his eyes as he passed overhead, gaze magnified by the eyes sparkling amongst his wings. It only lasted a millisecond, but it was long enough for Dean to flash his friend a smile.

 **_Stay safe,_ ** Dean heard him say as the remnant grace painted a path across the sky.

 _You too…_ He replied as the angel shimmered and vanished before his eyes. With a reassuring breath he turned back to the cliff.

Now it was a waiting game. Theoretically, the plan shouldn’t take much time. It was all reliant upon when the witch decided to show. Cas was the bait, drawing her out and leading her straight to Dean while the angel moved as far away as possible. She wasn’t weakened yet, so Dean would have to hope Sam cast the spell quick enough once he was signaled. Then it was all up to Dean.

Soon enough, the air around Dean began to change, choked by a rotting perfume that was as thick as cotton. He tensed and looked around, keeping his head on a swivel.

“Well… this is quite the surprise.” Dean turned slowly to face the voice, restraining the desire to gore its source, settling for a tick in his jaw. “I thought the angel had consumed your soul,” the witch stared at him, fascinated, birdlike face tilted and framing her yellow eyes.

“Well looks like I’m still kicking,” Dean snarled, satisfied at her annoyance.

“You think you can keep defying death, Dean?” She hissed, “I don’t care how you survived, it just means this time I can do it properly. Apparently my guardian doesn’t know how to keep you dead.”

“He’s not your guardian,” Dean stepped forward, “He’s not yours and he’s not mine. He is his own self. He does what he wants.”

“Aw so you couldn’t tame him, how sad,” she began to raise her gnarled hand, fingers faintly crackling with purple sparks.

 _Cas, signal Sam now!_ He shouted in his mind. He just needed to stall for a little more now. “He isn’t meant to be, just like you were never meant to have all those souls.”

“Who said I wasn’t? The demon who traded with me for his own gain? Humans who follow rules only they benefit from? Angels and demons, they treat you all the same. The more souls, the more power they have. Souls are just celestial currency. Your angel knew this when he betrayed you didn’t he?” Dean didn’t take the bait, continuing to watch her delayed magic. “Higher powers use them, so why can’t I do the same?”

Lightening cracked from somewhere behind Dean’s head, he saw the white of it bleach his vision and shatter his hearing. The earth shook but Dean kept his balance, shaking his head to recover. The witch seemed to have also been stunned, the two of them struggling to coordinate themselves.

“He’s… He’s close isn’t he?” She rasped out, “You’re only a distraction.”

“How’d you guess,” Dean smirked, counting the seconds it would take for Sam to cast the spell.

“You’re in my way,” she growled, “And maybe with your soul I’ll finally quell him. Then he won’t escape me ever again.”

“You’ve gotta kill me first,” Dean mocked.

“Happily,” She raised her hand, the lightning blooming into a full inferno, sparks and flames wrapping around her fingers. Dean waited, unmoving as words began to spill from her cracked lips. The spell shot towards him, straight towards his chest. Dean held his breath.

The spell fizzled out just before it reached him, the lightning sputtering before disappearing altogether. The magic died on her fingertips and she stumbled as if hit by a wave of nausea, lurching and swaying like the dying brush around her.

“W-What did you do? What is this!?” She screamed, pointing an accusing claw at him. A small ray of fire shot from the tip but missed Dean by a good five feet.

“Just a spell we found along with that book of yours. Oh and your welcome to try and look for it, but it may be a pile of ash when you find it. Kinda had to use it as an ingredient.”

This aggravated her more, her lip curling, “That book had hundreds of years worth of magic! Do you know how much knowledge you’ve just destroyed?!”

“Nope, and I don’t care,” Dean kelt down, sliding a hand into his boot and withdrawing a small knife. Bracing himself, he finally allowed his anger to give way, leading his steps as he charged forward, straight for the witch. With a yell he thrust the blade into her chest, quickly withdrawing it before she could grab at him.

She sagged back but recovered in record time, lashing out at him with her nails, grazing his cheek. Dean barely missed her second swing as she aimed for his leg. He jumped back, slicing her arm as he did so. She ignored the blood running from her arm, choosing instead to reach beneath her robes. The dagger glowed as white as ever in the moonlight, twisted blade taunting him as he remembered what had happened the first time her had seen it, what had started all this.

“Looks like mine is bigger than yours,” she smiled, rotten teeth black and yellow.

Dean held back a laugh, “Well where I come from we have a saying, size doesn’t matter, it’s how you use it.” He lunged for her again, knife narrowly missing her throat, leaving his arm exposed. Before he could pull back, her nails dug into his forearm and twisted. He yelled as he was brought to his knees, body contorted to keep his arm from breaking. He barely caught her other hand as it plummeted towards him, the dagger a hair length from his face. Although she’d been weakened, she was still unnaturally strong.

“Trying to prolong the inevitable as always,” she hissed too close for Dean’s liking, “Frigidus!” Dean gasped, a river of ice flooding his veins from where the witch held him, creeping down towards his chest. He tried to shake her grip while holding off the blade, the chill running through him quickly draining what little energy he had. A kick to his kneecap sent him falling backwards, the witch falling with him, releasing his arm and pushing all her weight onto the blade as they fell.

Dean jerked his head away, flinching as he felt the metal sink deep into the soil by his head. The witch pulled it up again, body pinning him to the ground but Dean reached out, grabbing both her wrists and rolled.

Dean hadn’t realized exactly how steep the hill they were on was. He tried to stop once he’d gotten the upper hand but his momentum pulled him down and up and down again. At some point he lost track of the witch, letting go to scramble for a hold of something before he rolled off and over the edge. When he finally stopped his head was spinning like a top. He tried to stumble to his feet, falling over three times before he managed to stand without the help of his hands. By the time he looked up and saw how close he’d gotten to the cliff’s edge, he barely registered the casting of another spell.

“Fulmi!”

A shock coursed through Dean’s spine, tensing his muscles unwillingly and stiffening his body. Dean knew these spells were only a fraction of what they could be at full power, but they sure were doing a good job of stealing precious time.

Dean began to fall again, his eyes widening as he tipped closer to the precipice. He moved what limbs he could, flailing his arms to grab at the edge of the cliff before he could roll off it completely. Then she was on him again, roughly forcing him onto his back, head hanging dangerously off the edge, a claw searching for his throat. Dean swung at her, keeping her talons away until the blade appeared again, this time by his abdomen. He grabbed for the dagger again and to his surprise, she let him take hold of the hilt. He looked up, surprised and saw the triumphant look in her eyes. Before he could realize it, her free hand swung forward and cut his throat.

Dean sputtered, momentarily stunned as he did nothing but grab at his own throat, trying to keep the blood in. The loss hit him like a train. He couldn’t fail. Cas and Sam depended on it. And he couldn’t call Cas, couldn’t risk Cas succumbing again. He had about two minutes before he bled out. That would have to be enough.

“Thought you’d escaped hadn’t you?” the witch cooed, running a bloody finger down his jaw, dagger still held tightly, “Well now I get to watch you die — again. Come on, look into my eyes. I want to see it.”

Dean held her gaze, eyes never leaving her face, instead focusing on the view in his peripherals. He caught a glint of something in the dirt and slowly lowered a hand from his throat.

He tasted blood in his mouth, the life of him bubbling in his throat. With a spiteful grimace he snarled at her and spit the bloody saliva in her face. She chuckled and leisurely wiped the red from her face, “Oh I don’t mind. The messier the better.”

From between his teeth, Dean snapped, “Then I bet you’ll like this, bitch.” With that, Dean grabbed the knife from the ground and drove it through the meat of her wrist. She shrieked, immediately releasing the dagger. Dean grabbed it midair and without hesitation, tossed it over the cliff.

The witch screamed louder as she watched the dagger fall, its glint lost in the depths of the river. “What have you done!? Give it back! Give it back!” She shook him, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Dean smiled, blood covering his teeth, “Couldn’t tame him?” Fear filled her gaze, her hands desperately roaming around in the dirt.

“No, no, NO!” She crawled off him, struggling to her feet and running as fast as she could back up the hill. Dean, rose to his knees, one hand still at his draining throat, watching her try to flee. Before she had gone thirty feet, the air crackled.

Dean turned his head, eyes glued to a spot right in front of him, floating in the air over the cliff. There lay a crack of light, the fabric of reality torn like cloth, wavering. With a bright glow, the rift expanded and from it came forth the seraphim. The heavens opened and down he came like in the ancient stories, though it was much more impressive in person; a beautiful and terrible visage of eyes, feathers and teeth, Dean almost expecting to hear the phrase, “do not be afraid.” But she should be afraid. The spell was broken, the blade was no longer in her possession, there was no restraining his wrath.

His form settled, lower half disappearing over the cliff side and clawed hands resting on the outcrop. His many eyes burned in the witch’s direction, rage radiating in the space around him. Raising his wings high, Castiel flapped downward, a torrent of air knocking Dean to his side and hitting the witch with full force. She was blown off her feet, flying several feet in the air before crashing and rolling across the ground with a loud crunch. She stayed prone on the ground, scrambling to get up but Cas wouldn’t let her.

Dean slowly felt Cas’s presence ebb back into his consciousness, the soft touch of it a comfort that settled warmly against his soul. **_Dean…_ ** Castiel’s gaze turned to him, gentle and patient, worry growing as he observed the blood dribbling through his fingers. **_You’re hurt…_ ** The angel reached down, softly brushing a finger down his side. A shiver ran through Dean as the grace worked its way through him, a tingle buzzing his skin as it mended beneath his touch.

Dean lifted his hand and saw the red of it had disappeared. Their eyes met and Dean felt a smile spread on his face. He’d done it, he’d freed Cas. They were alive, they could live a life together, as impossible as he’d thought it, he could bring his angel home. The joy was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, the small fantasy of them finally come to fruition filled Dean with an unexplainable feeling… it must be love.

Eternity Cas had said… Dean thought he finally knew what that meant.

A frustrated cry broke them from their moment. They both turned to the struggling witch, her hands clawing the dirt. The angel bristled, feathers trembling as they shifted against each other, ruffling and nearly doubling his size. A deep, earth shaking growl rumbled from his throat, teeth barred as his body darkened. The grace within him swirled black and purple, his eyes and mouth the only part left aglow, giving him the appearance of a black hole devouring the stars. The pure void of his body crawled forward, claws sinking menacingly into the ground as he made his way forward. The witch screamed as she saw him approach, a gargantuan shadow descending upon her. She begged and pleaded but neither Cas or Dean paid any attention.

Dean stood, watching as the scene unfolded. A chill shook him, he could feel the angel’s rage and was merely glad he was not the source of it.

 **_“I promised Stikini…”_ ** he caged her beneath his claws, **_“that I would drag you to Hell myself.”_ ** She fought him, shouting spells, each one hitting Cas with no effect. **_“You hurt the ones I love. You_ ** **made** **_me hurt them. You hurt Sam and you_ ** **killed** **_Dean — and Adahy.”_ ** Cas dug a claw into the flesh of her shoulder, pressing insistently until it drove all the way through. She hissed, growling and clawing like an animal. Cas sneered, “ **_That does not include the thousands before them.”_ **

“ _You hypocrite!!!”_ she shrieked in anguish, “You’ve done the same! You’ve taken souls! You’ve killed far more than I have angel!” Castiel’s growl grew louder, fangs lengthening.

 **_“But there’s one thing I’ve done that you haven’t… I’ve learned from my mistakes. I may never redeem myself, but I’ll do my best to try, starting by punishing you.”_ ** Cas picked her up like a doll, dark fire gliding up his hand and snaking hungrily towards the witch. Flames attacked her flailing form, devouring her skin like ravenous wolves. She struggled, waving wildly as the fire caught her hair then her face, twisting it into a horrified skeletal expression, bone exposed as the skin and muscle blackened and melted. Her screams ceased but her mouth stayed open, gaping in silent agony. A ringing replaced her screams, a glow building in her eyes as grace ravaged her inside and out.

Dean stared frozen, again shuddering and fighting his gag reflex as he watched her body lose its solidity. The light grew brighter until Cas tightened his grip. A cacophony of cracking forced bile into Dean’s throat. There was one final pulse, the glow finally breaking free and then she slumped, a dark husk all that was left after Castiel’s wrath. Cas released her body, letting it shatter on the ground, her bones crumbling to dust.

Dean walked over, step by step, shocked at what he had just witnessed. “She’s… she’s really —”

“ **_Dead, yes,_ ** ” Cas turned to him.

“We did it…” Dean couldn’t believe it, “We did it.”

“ ** _Yes we did beloved._** **_She is dead and now they are free.”_** Dean frowned, confused until he looked to the corpse again. He gasped.

It was faint at first but soon it grew, spheres slowly spiraling from her body, life springing forth from the ashes. There were hundreds of them, silently floating up in a great moving canopy of light. Calm washed over Dean as the souls swam around in a river above them, glow reviving the land, color other than black and red finally touching its long deprived soil.

Cas watched with Dean, a similar level of fascination showing in the widening of his eyes and the flattening of his feathers. His grace brightened once more, a joyful blue with splashes of pink and violet spreading as he lifted a hand to drag through the continuous stream. A couple of the souls trickled down, swirling around his claws, zipping in front of his face. The angel spread his feathers in alarm, curiously watching as one soul approached and lightly tapped his forehead before returning to join the others.

Dean chuckled at the confusion on Cas’s face, the angel tilting his head at him. It only made Dean smile harder.

Dean noticed the souls begin to descent, one by one, each spirit settling above the ground, their energy expanding until Dean made out bodies then clothes then faces. Their appearance varied greatly, from dark haired and animal leather to blonde and modernly clothed. Of all ages, shapes, sizes, and appearances, they all had their eyes set on the pair in front of them.

Dean circled around, observing each face and appreciative smile. He almost felt embarrassed with so much attention on him but a comforting weight at his back calmed him. The touch of Castiel’s feathers drew the warmth from his own soul, manifesting a peace into his body that he knew no one else could evoke.

There was a shifting in the crowd and five souls stepped forward. Dean recognized two of them instantly, but the others took him a minute to realize. Adahy was the first, then Dean remembered Blake’s face and the woman and small child in her arms he guessed must be his wife and child. The other darker skinned man beside Adahy was vaguely familiar. It was not his face but his eyes, a long, serpentine look about his features — and then it clicked. Chu’a winked at him and stuck out his tongue, snickering and mimicking fangs with his fingers. Adahy shook his head at him. “Adahy…Chu’a… Blake,” Dean stared at them, disbelieving, “It’s really you.”

“Yes,” Adahy smiled, “It is us. And this must be Castiel. I never received a proper introduction.”

Cas’s wings flattened tight against his sides, colors shifting shyly, “I’m sorry —”

“It was not you bright one, do not feel shame for what is not your doing. I do not blame you for my death.” The angel nodded sincerely. “Dean,” the old man returned to him, “You kept your promise. You saved my people.”

“We all did,” Dean glanced to Cas, “Me, Sam, and Cas.”

Adahy nodded, “And we thank you.” A unanimous hum of agreement rumbled through the crowd.

“And we do too.” It was the first time Dean had ever heard Blake speak. To see him alive and not covered in his own blood was a welcome change. The man had a warm voice, an arm wrapped around his wife’s waist as the child lay cradled in her arms; he was a good man, Dean already knew. There were more children amongst the souls, but hers was by far the youngest.

They weren’t able to save their lives, but saving their afterlives was the next best thing. It brought Dean great joy to see all the people they’d saved. For once, it had not ended with more lives lost than saved. These people looked upon them now with such reverence that Dean was at a loss for words. This was why he’d started hunting, he remembered. This feeling and knowing how many they’d saved. It’d been so long since he’d felt this satisfaction, the driving force behind all he did: to help people. This is what made it all worth it. They hadn’t just saved a couple of people, though just one was enough, but thousands.

**_You’ve saved more than that…_ ** Cas whispered to him,  **_You’ve saved the world._ **

Dean had never really took the time to think about that. He knew it, logically, but he never  _ felt  _ like he saved the world. If anything, he just made things worse and cleaned up the mess. That’s all it was. Nothing heroic, he wasn’t a saint. He was just a man doing his job, doing the right thing.

The press of the angel’s feathers persisted, stroking gently across his skin. **_You don’t know how great you are, Dean… But don’t worry, I will prove to you in time._** That small promise left Dean with a lump in his throat. Still devoid of words, Dean reached behind him, grabbing ahold of the long barbs of the closest feather. What Dean can’t put into words must communicate because Cas gave a satisfied hum, shifting his wing so that another feather overlapped across Dean’s hand. Dean held on tighter.

“There is no gift great enough for us to repay you,” Adahy continued, “But we can do our best. Anything you ask for, we will do.”

Dean blinked, “What?” His mind went blank. It’s not that there weren’t things he needed, but he wasn’t used to being asked about things he _wanted,_ outside of the usual burger, bed, and booze. It wasn’t how their lives were. Their blessings turned into curses, any light immediately snuffed out. There were strings attached to any offer. But this… was simply an act of kindness. Still he said, “There’s nothing we ask in return. Saving you is reward enough.”

Adahy simply smiled. “What do you want?” he repeated with patient encouragement.

Dean opened his mouth and paused. In that moment he looked to Cas. The angel, remaining silent, tilted a questioning head at him, the same gesture Dean knew and loved and that’s when Dean knew his answer. “Cas,” he said without looking away. The angel’s eyes and crown of feathers widen. “I want you to heal him. Let him keep his wings.” Dean nodded at Adahy. “He’s using yours and my borrowed energy, but once your gone, he’ll go back to the way he was. I can’t sustain him alone. All I ask is that you restore him, permanently.”

**_Dean, you don’t have to — you can ask for anything._ **

_ I want this Cas. _

**_I don’t need my wings. Don’t deprive yourself of such an opportunity._ **

_ But you want your wings,  _ Dean stated matter-of-factly.

After hesitating, Cas replied,  **_Yes…_ **

_ And I want you Cas… after all you’ve done, Cas you deserve this. You deserve more. _

“Can you do that?” Dean feared for a moment that it wouldn’t be possible, but that idea was soon quelled.

“Yes,” Adhay smiled, “We can heal your bondmate.” The new title surprisingly, doesn’t bother Dean, instead his chest swelled with pride. Him and Cas were bonded, it was a fact that no one could ever take away from them. “Hold out your hand,” Adahy commanded and Dean obeyed, then gestured for Cas. “He will help transfer our energies into a single source. Your bond makes it simpler this way. In doing so, he will lend you part of himself as well and complete the transfer. Are you ready?” Cas glanced over to Dean who’s expression made it clear that there was no arguing. Silently he nodded and lowered his head to Dean.

Adahy placed a transparent hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing it encouragingly, “You know what to do.” Without hesitation, Dean walked forward and placed his hand on Cas. He rested between his eyes, glowing orbs that Dean could imagine with a chuckle, crisscrossed to try and see him. Cas’s skin, if it could be called that, was smooth. He didn’t have time amidst the chaos to comprehend what Cas felt like but now all he can focus on is how his hand rested upon the angel’s grace, a living, moving, stream of life. Cas felt like water on stone, Dean able to dip lightly into the blue river below before finding an invisible barrier, like opposing magnetic fields. It was fascinating, the way the grace twined around his fingers and stroked him like a pool of rose petals. Dean couldn’t look away from the spot, from it something warm bloomed beneath his skin and rose to rest in his chest. Grace and soul touching, Dean realized, that is what he was experiencing, just this time within his own body. It felt no less spectacular than the last time.

“We are ready,” Adahy stated firmly. Dean reluctantly looked back and saw the web of people, each linked together with clasped hands and determined eyes. “You give the word.”

Dean took a steadying breath, “Let’s do this.”

Dean shuddered as a jolt like lightning shot through him. It nearly whited out his visioned and swayed him off his feet, but he held firm. It continued, his body conducting the current of energy, somehow channeling it in a constant stream. Before he knew it, it was over. The flow stopped and suddenly Dean was too weak to stand. He crumbled to his knees, Cas quickly shot out a hand to catch him from falling to the ground completely.

“D-Did it work?” he gasped up at him. Cas just stared at him, frozen. Then he began to glow.

Corsing from his head and tail and wings, the light brightened until Castiel was like the sun itself, wings flaring gloriously up into the sky as the feathers lengthened, missing patches Dean had never noticed before filling in in a spectacular display. Dean never turned away, the light never hurting  his eyes as he watched Cas brighten then dim. He was once again speechless. If Dean had thought Cas beautiful before, now he was a god blessed with the rose of Venus and armed with Cupid’s bow.

Gold stardust flowed in him, the galaxies of his being intertwined, dancing with color, changing before Dean could name them. Cas shook himself, releasing Dean once he could balance himself on his knees. He squinted when he saw Dean’s eyes on him,  **_Is everything alright Dean?_ **

Dean just nodded, mouth open,  _ Uh huh. _

A chuckle echoed behind him, “Looks like your soul did a little more than expected,” Adahy said.

“Y-Yeah,” he managed to say.

Cas still stared confused,  **_What does he mean?_ ** Dean pointed at his wings. Cas turned and stopped. There was a long moment where Cas just stared, completely absorbed in the scanning of every feather of his wings. He stretched them, flapped them, twisting to see every inch of his new colors.  **_This can’t be possible… Dean, a part of your soul fused itself with my grace… how?_ **

_ I don’t know… _

**_Dean you don’t know what this means,_ ** Cas rounded on him suddenly.

_ Uhhh… no?  _ Dean answered, not quite sure where this was going.

“It is done,” Adahy interrupted, “we used what energy we could spare.”

“ **_And we thank you,_ ** ” Castiel eagerly lowered himself into what looked like a bow, “ **_I wish you a swift journey to Heaven, I bless your passage and will ensure your eternal peace._ ** ”

A happy murmur rolled among the souls until Chu’a spoke into Adahy’s ear. Adahy nodded, eyes on Castiel, “We’re ready to see what lies beyond.” The angel smiled and Dean looked across the crowd one last time, memorizing their faces, their glee until he finally landed on Adahy.

He swallowed, “Adahy, we couldn’t have done this without you. We couldn’t have saved anyone if you hadn’t —” The old man raised his hand to stop him.

“Dean Winchester, you do not need to thank me… We all had our roles to play in this and I am merely glad to have been a part of it, however long I had to wait. And now I can have peace. Life becomes very tiring when you are alone, but I am not alone anymore… you shouldn’t feel guilty either.” Dean simply nodded his understanding. “Now,” Adahy turned to his kin and strangers alike, “I think we are all eager to see what lies in store… Thank you once again Dean. Thank you, thank Castiel, and thank Sam for me. I wish I could give a proper goodbye, but I am rather eager, forgive me.”

“Of course,” Dean put on a sad smile and waved his goodbye. Satisfied, Adahy smiled, his wrinkles softening as his form blurred around the edges, mist swirling around him until he once again returned into his form of light. The rest of the souls followed, Cas and Dean watching with awe as they wound together and ascended, higher and higher until there was a flash and then they were gone, leaving them alone on the cliffside.

Dean’s gaze lingered on the spot where they’d disappeared, the sky above now clearing, clouds dispersing into fluffy cotton balls, catching the first hints of a sunrise. The moon was gone, Dean realized. He scanned the sky but there was no trace of it. The night had finally ended and time moved at it’s natural pace, bringing with it warmth and color and a future. It’d been awhile since Dean had watched a sunrise, the rays waking between the trees, cracking open its eyelids to shine upon the earth with a bright smile.

The first catch of sunlight on feathers distracted him, he stared at the way the rays peeked through the angel’s wings, light melding into his grace and warming the colors there, an ocean of gold, orange, and yellow. Cas didn’t seem to notice, he himself watching the star rising in the sky, but Dean couldn’t bother to look at it now. All he could see was his angel, basking in the glow of a new day, perfection made apparent in the wonder of his many eyes, the alien beauty of his form, the joy spoken in the fluffing of his feathers and the swirling of his grace, all exaggerated in the light of the sun. If the halo of feathers around his head weren’t enough, now the sun was his crown, gold and glittering like the glorious creature he was. Dean would remember this moment for a long time, a mental picture framed in his memory, he would never forget.

After a while, the sun still half waking, Cas looked back at him. Ease graced his movements, each turn of his body an artform as he faced the human before him. Dean mapped the dance as Cas stretched out before him, form melding down until he could look into his eyes without straining his neck, face to face. Dean saw his grace shaping his body, preparing to return it to the form Dean knew well but he stopped him. “Wait,” Dean whispered, eyes never leaving the angel’s face. Cas did as he said, settling back into his true self, a question in the tilt of his head. Dean extended his hand, Cas tracking the movement as he slowly placed it on the angel’s cheek. Cas stared at him with more confusion until Dean stroked a thumb down his face, a soothing touch. Cas followed, gingerly placing his own hand atop of Dean’s, careful to keep his claws gentle against Dean’s soft skin. Dean instinctively pulled closer, feeling the warmth of Castiel’s form calling his own. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the angel’s.

**_Dean?_ ** The touch of Cas’s grace in his mind sent a pleasant buzz through his whole being. Unable to wait any longer, he closed the small space between them. He planted his lips against the angel’s skin, where he guessed Cas’s mouth to be. Dean knew he had no lips, the feeling odd and unfamiliar, but kissing a real angel, no matter how strange was still a kiss. Grace against his skin, a caress consisting of Cas’s very being, was more beautiful and precious than anything Dean could imagine within the confines of human touch.

Dean felt a hand in his hair, the claws careful but insistent as they combed through and cupped Dean closer to Cas. Though Dean had initiated the kiss, Cas seemed to have his own ideas. His wings spread high, distracting Dean from his initial task, wrapping around him, brushing his clothes, his skin, like a breeze, river spring, and rain all in one. He was the epitome of a gentle giant, so much affection conveyed in the smallest of touches. Then Cas was drawing away and Dean was forced to step back. Even though Cas’s hands remained on his arms, he felt the loss.

Cas shifted, morphing before Dean’s eyes until he again was met with the familiar blue. Human hands now lay on him and a very human expression was obvious on Cas’s face. Dean frowned, “Cas… no, don’t start thinking that, come on.”

“Thinking what?”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I just —” Cas avoided his eyes, barring his true feelings. He shook his head, eyes shut.

“Hey, hey,” Dean sought for his gaze, forcing him to look at him with the touch of his fingers on his chin, “Talk to me.”

“I —” Cas took a deep breath, gaze unwavering, “I’m not human Dean.”

“I know that.”

“But you don’t understand.”

“Yes I fucking do,” Dean said in an offended tone, “I might be the one person who  _ does  _ understand.”

“But…” So much grief broke through in the small second his mask cracked, “I’m an angel… we aren’t supposed to feel — anything. It goes against our nature, our programming if you will. And… Dean, I don’t know how this works, I’ve always been so clueless. I’ve been doing things blind when it comes to humans for so long. I’m not supposed to be this way. But I do feel. I do —”

“Cas. Hey, listen to me. You don’t have to be like other angels, remember? You just have to be you, Cas… I like you,” he smiled, hoping to cheer up the angel but Cas crumbled further.

“It’s not —” Cas began but Dean interrupted.

“Cas, you are the greatest friend I’ve  _ ever  _ had,” Dean’s smile persisted but his voice started to shake, “And you… I can’t even begin to imagine how you chose us. You — you’re the most… most  _ beautiful  _ thing I’ve ever seen. And how often do you hear me say that?”

Cas shook his head again, refusing to look at him. “But — I mess things up. You might change your mind. Dean if it hadn’t been for the witch I might never have realized —” Cas was cut off by a kiss.

Dean pulled back sharply and Cas blinked at him in surprise, clearing his throat. “Dean what if —” Dean kissed him again, rough and short. “Dean —” Another kiss and another, everytime Cas tried to speak until Cas pushed him back. “Dean!”

“Stop,” Dean said, pushing against Cas’s hands. The angel didn’t stop him, letting him rest a hand on his neck, “Just stop, Cas.” He pulled him in tight, both of them kneeling now. He clutched the trenchcoat, burying his nose in the angel’s shoulder. “It doesn’t matter…,” he mumbled, “let’s just…” He doesn’t continue, not sure of the exact words, so he held on. “Just don’t let go, okay Cas… don’t let us go.”

Cas shifted to press closer so that his deep brown hair tickled Dean’s nose. “I won’t… I promise.”

“Good,” Dean smiled against his neck, “Because we earned it, man. We fucking earned it.”

“Yes…” Cas pressed a kiss to his cheek, “We have.”

They sit together a while longer, they part only enough to see the sun finally rising above them, warming them. Cas leaned his head on Dean’s shoulder, a hand intertwined with Dean’s. Finally, he sighed, breathing deeply like he’s trying to memorize Dean’s scent. “Dean… I want to enjoy this with you, however long this lasts.”

Dean nodded softly, “Me too…” He swallowed, unsure of his next words, “And… I want this to last. I — I’ve known, a little, about us but… I never believed we could…”

“But here we are,” Cas looked up at him, eyes wide and captivated, a deeper meaning in them.

“Here we are,” Dean met his gaze, a peace falling over him as he fell into those blue eyes. They sit together until they hear the birds finally begin their morning song and they return their sights to the land ahead. It was black and ruined but both knew it would heal in time, just as they would.

“You know Sam’s still waiting,” Cas said.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, “But I don’t want to move.”

Cas chuckled, “You know lethargy is a sin.”

“Yeah well sue me for wanting a break after this,” he sighed.

“Well… now that I have my wings back maybe you can take a break. I can take you all back to the bunker.”

“Don’t forget baby.”

“Of course I could never forget her, you’d kill me.”

“Maybe not that drastic but I would definitely take away your Netflix privileges,” Dean smiled.

Cas stared at him with a raised eyebrow and deadpanned, “I would hack your account and pry the remote from your cold fingers.”

Dean chuckled, “Yeah I should know that you can beat my ass by now.” Cas smirked in reply. “So…” Dean moved a hair from the side of Cas’s face, “Wanna go home now Cas?” The angel hummed and nodded. Dean smiled, “Okay then, let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh at last! This is where the main storyline for this fic ends. Though there will be an epilogue to tie things up and answer a question or two (and give y'all some sweet smut ;) ) it may take a little longer than my usual weekly updates to post it due to school obligations :/ but I will try and get it done asap! But thank you guys for sticking with the story this long! <3 Thank you everyone who commented and encouraged me and enjoyed one of my first big fic projects! It was an exciting journey and I definitely plan on doing something like this again :)  
> Love y'all and as always you can find me over on [tumblr!](https://jdragon122.tumblr.com/) Don't be afraid to shoot me a message, I won't bite :D


	12. At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home, sweet home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaah sorry for the delay guys! School and midterms happened but alas here is the promised epilogue! This was my first time writing smut so I hope I did okay lol. I also made a manip for this chapter ;) So i hope this was worth the wait <3 Enjoy!

 

 

**October 14th 10:34 pm**

The Bunker was exactly how Sam and Dean had left it. Dean opened the creaky door, breathing in the smell of paper, stone, and coffee he’d learned to call home. He looked down at the war table as he descended the stairs, their chairs still askew and table cluttered with files.

Cas and Sam followed down the steps behind him as he plopped the duffel bag on the table, sighing as he paused and took a relieved breath. He was home. Dean thought he would never see this place again yet here he was. It welcomed him back, same as always. Funny though how so much had changed since they’d left.

The way back from Arizona had been easy. Cas had flown Dean down the hill at great insistence, and Dean, too exhausted mentally and physically, didn’t refuse. They’d found Sam and given him the news of their success then flown back to the impala. The joy Dean felt when he saw her safe and sound was indescribable — and so was the joy Dean saw in Cas’s eyes.

Dean had never seen the angel so happy in his life. Finally with his grace healed he could cure with a touch again, help without weakening again, stretch his feathers and fly. The elation in Cas’s face when they landed was unmatched. He was so proud and joyful to touch the clouds once more, Dean couldn’t help but smile.

It’d taken them a couple flights to get back. It wasn’t until they’d reached the impala that Sam and Dean realized just how starved they were. Finally back in the cell reception zone, Dean found the nearest burger joint and booked it there. Dean didn’t think he’d seen his brother eat so eagerly in his life. After that, they’d crashed in baby. Cas hadn’t even come back from the bookstore next door yet and they were out like a light. Dean had no idea what Cas did in that time, but he knew that he’d let them sleep for several well needed hours.

When they awoke, they found that they were just as hungry as before, so they decided to fly back just outside of Lebanon, Kansas to one of Dean’s favorite bars for some dinner. Some drinks and a hardy meal and the brothers were ready to return to the Bunker, and now they were here.

Dean spun around, arms extended, “Home sweet home!” he beamed.

Sam huffed, “Yeah, glad to be back.” His brother’s smile was genuine but there were still bags under his eyes, eyes that weren’t quite as bright as before. Dean was sure he looked the same. It’d probably take a week or two for them to fully recover from their weariness, but after the day they had, they deserved a break.

Dean smirked and reached up to ruffle Sam’s shaggy hair, “Yeah just go get some more beauty sleep now little brother.”

“Dean!” Sam whined and attempted to pat his hair down.

“Okay princess I won’t mess with your gorgeous locks.” Sam shook his head, glaring at Dean but with a smile on his face. Eventually his expression softened and his gaze flicked to Cas then back to Dean.

“Yeah I’m turning in for the night. I could sleep for a week. You better not wake me before 10 am… Now have fun you two.” Sam winked before turning away and down the hall, footsteps fading until there was the click of a door closing.

Dean’s face reddened as he swallowed, staring unnecessarily long down the hall before finally turning to Cas. The angel was standing awkwardly beside him, gaze for once focused on the tabletop and not Dean’s face. Dean leaned against the war table, arms crossed as he tried to force down his embarrassment. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed to talk to Cas, but they hadn’t exactly discussed what they’d do once they returned home. He knew now they were a thing and that he was sure the angel would not part from his as long as he lived and beyond, which was still mindblowing to him. He could barely comprehend ten maybe twenty years, or however long it took him to finally bite the dust for good, but eternity… it was a thing he simply couldn’t understand. But that was the future, right now, they had to take baby steps.

“So,” Cas finally started for him, “Where do we go from here?”

Dean took a moment, rubbing the back of his neck and sighing. This was Cas, the person who would do almost anything for him, was still learning about human interaction and who had sworn to love him forever. Cas didn’t know how relationships worked, what was the “right” thing to do. Dean could do anything and Cas would except it, not even question it. Whatever Dean did, Cas would follow.

There were personal boundaries yes, but Cas had long ago proved that certain boundaries were of little importance to him. Dean could ask what he wanted and Cas wouldn’t judge him for it.

Taking a deep breath Dean rose and walked over to the angel. He reached out, taking Cas’s hand and drawing it close to him. He stroked his thumb over the tender skin of Cas’s knuckles, his own calloused hands rough like stone in comparison. Dean flipped the angel’s hand over, examining his palm. Castiel’s hands were soft like rose petals, his fingers long and elegant, mesmerizing. Dean looked up, meeting Cas’s questioning eyes. The angel’s brows rose in confusion but his eyes shone with admiration as he scanned Dean’s face.

“Dean?” He asked with a single word. Dean bit his lip, debating. After another moment, he’d come to his decision.

He took Cas’s hand in his, nodding to him as the only form of communication. Dean dragged him down the hall, holding tight as he made his way to his room. He opened the door and dragged Cas in with him. Dean let go of Cas’s hand, walking over to search in his clothes drawers. Finally he withdrew two pairs of sweatpants and t-shirts. He left a pair of red flannel pants and an ACDC shirt on the bed and turned to the angel with blue sweatpants and a Led Zepplin shirt printed with the Icarus logo. He smirked at his own humor before looking up and holding them out to Cas.

“Uh… so I know you don’t sleep but um… I was wondering if you’d…” Dean cleared his throat, “I mean that coat can’t be the comfiest and if you’d like to, you know,” Dean vaguely gestured to his bed, “If you want —”

“Yes,” Cas reached out and took the pile of clothes from Dean’s hands, not breaking eye contact, “I’d love to Dean.” The dark of the room made it difficult to see but Dean was sure Cas was smiling.

“Alright then,” he grinned shyly, shucking off his dirty jacket. He should’ve probably showered now that he thought of it but it was kind of late for that.

“Here.” Dean felt Cas’s hand brush his forearm, surprising him. There was a shock, like when skin touches static metal and suddenly Dean was clean. All the annoying dirt in his pores and hair disappeared, making him feel lighter. It wasn’t as satisfying as a warm shower but it was still nice.

“Thanks,” Dean sighed.

“You’re welcome,” Cas replied, stepping back to give Dean space before removing his coat, followed quickly by his suit jacket leaving his shirt and tie.

Dean stared despite himself. Cas worked exceedingly quick, hands loosening the knot of his tie and placing it on Dean’s desk chair. Dean found himself eyeing the nimble movement of the angel’s fingers as they revealed the smooth skin hidden beneath the blaring white dress shirt. His eyes roved the expanse of Cas’s skin, his muscles flexing as he removed the shirt. Before Dean could register, Cas was undoing his belt and holy crap those were some hip bones. Dean felt the shame burn on his cheeks but he couldn’t force himself to turn away. He suddenly realized that he’d never really seen Cas underneath all the layers of fabrics. Yes there’d been the time with him naked and the bees but Dean had been adamant _not_ to look at him at the time, now, he was free to admire.

Dean felt a playful poke at his brain, blinking as he registered Cas’s chuckle echo in his head. **_You know if you get a show, it’s only fair I get one too._ ** Dean blushed even harder, especially when Cas turned to him with those fathomless eyes, hooded by an underlying desire. The angel continued to undo his slacks, first the button then the zipper and dean was mesmerized. The movement was deliberate now, Cas staring at him with one eyebrow cocked and hands slowing. Dean licked his lips. As tempting as this was and as much as he wanted it, it’s not what he needed right now.

Cas sensed his hesitation, pausing and face going soft. The confidence of his movements faded and his shoulders slumped making him look smaller, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to push things too far — I just thought —”

“No, no, no,” Dean stopped him, putting both hands on his arms, “No — you did nothing wrong… Trust me, what you were doing was good, but…” Dean searched Cas’s hurt face, trying to explain what he needed. “I — I just want to be with you right now Cas. I was dead barely over a day ago and am still processing all this… I know you’ve been waiting for this for a long time but — give me some time, please, be patient for me. I’m not saying no to you Cas, I’m just saying no now, alright?” Cas nodded but there was still a hint of underlying confusion that Dean could sense from him. He sighed, “Once we get into bed I’ll tell you, okay?” Cas nodded again, this time a bit more reassured. Satisfied for now, Dean took off his own clothes while Cas slipped into his sweatpants and shirt. He caught Cas looking once or twice but he just grinned at him, trying to defuse some of the tension. It seemed to work as Cas smiled softly back at him.

Finally in their nightwear, they both climbed under the covers, getting comfortable on their pillows until they were facing each other. For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Neither of them spoke as they observed the other, safe, warm, and alive. It wasn’t much to ask for but for them, it was a miracle.

After a minute, Dean turned his gaze to the bedsheets, gathering his thoughts. He could feel Cas’s concern radiate from him like the warmth of his body. He wanted to comfort him but he couldn’t find the right words. Dean blinked back up when he felt a hand on his cheek. Cas’s thumb stroked along his jawline and cheekbone, soothing and soft. It anchored him, his eyes slipping shut so he could hear the thrum of grace like a heartbeat against his skin. They were alive and Dean was so grateful that they were.

“Cas,” his voice rumbled softly. He stared into Cas’s eyes, swirling like drops of water in a glass.

“Yes, Dean?” The angel continued to stroke his face.

Dean wet his lips nervously, “It’s taken us so long to get here. I never thought I’d have something like this. And I’m happy that I finally got my head out of my ass but… I just — I want you to know that it’s been awhile since I’ve done this. I’m not good at certain things. I know we’re bonded, I know you can feel what I feel right now but… I may not be the perfect person all the time. I know we’re close and that I’ll go to the ends of the earth for you but… I will let you down. At some point or another Cas, I’m gonna screw up.” Dean cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the lump forming there. “We’ve gone through so much Cas, we’ve lost so much. I’ll fight for us, I will. But that will sometimes mean fighting with myself. Just remember that… I want to warn you because… I don’t want to scare you.” Dean strained a smile, “And I was dead a bit ago, so I really want to just hold you right now.”

Cas looked at him, unblinking. Dean frowned, confused, but then the angel sighed. Castiel trailed his hand down from Dean’s face, tracing his arm until finally he curled his fingers around Dean’s hand. They both looked at their joined hands, revelling in the way they slotted together, how Dean’s white, scarred knuckles contrasted with Cas’s tan ones. Slowly, the angel spoke, “I know you’re scared Dean.” He looked up, holding Dean’s gaze, “I know you’re scared of this, of us and of yourself. You think after all this time Dean, that I don’t know who you are, your values, your strengths, your fears, your soul. I know you believe you destroy everything you touch, you think that after a time, I will leave you. Despite our bond, I’ll desert what we have for a place back in heaven, that with my new wings I will abandon you. But Dean… look into me. I want you to tell me what you see.” Cas dragged Dean’s hand forward, holding it against his chest.

Dean’s eyes shone with concern but Cas just squeezed his hand reassuringly. Still unsure of Cas’s purpose, Dean furrowed his brow, concentrating on the connection that burned stronger with the grace under his fingers. Taking a deep breath, Dean reached out.

The moment Dean touched Cas was like a splash of warm water on a cold day. His mind basked in the lapping of warmth around it, relaxing in the enticing pull of its tide. He let it pull him in, into the galactic swirl of emotions, thoughts, and memories. All these things wove together, surrounding and welcoming him. It was strange, the first time Dean had been this close he’d been forced to resist this, the gravity of Cas’s conscious, but now he could see the event horizon, the great unknown. Willingly, he fell in. It was dark at first but not for long. A sphere glowed bright and blue in the center. Strands of it extended away to create the quilted pattern of the galaxy. But out of the ball of blue, Dean saw one difference. In the center of the sphere glowing brightly and woven extensively with the infinite pattern was a single golden strand.

Dean stared at it, marvelled how well it’d woven itself into the strings beyond, almost the entirety of his surroundings shining with it’s brightness. Curious, Dean extended his reach and touched it.

Dean gasped, his breath falling away as warmth and light surrounded him, comfort and adoration unequal to any he’d ever felt. It was so welcoming, so kind and loving, loving beyond belief and it was only for him. Dean felt his eyes well with tears, there was no way this was for him. How could it be, there was so much of it.

**_Dean…_ **

Dean looked up, the mental illusion fading for a moment. Cas’s eyes were on him, the softest of smiles on his face. It wasn’t until he felt Cas’s finger wipe under his eye that he knew he was crying.

**_Don’t you feel it Dean? It is my love for you…. Look at it._ **

Dean shook his head.

**_Please beloved._ ** Swallowing, Dean nodded, concentrating again. The image returned and he stared everywhere. Anywhere he looked there was gold threaded into blue, dancing with each other in the eternity of this space.

**_My love for you Dean, don’t you see? It’s ingrained in every strand of my being. All that I have become, all that I have done is because of you. I cannot stop loving you Dean because you are a part of me, a part I cannot erase._ **

Dean felt himself pushed away, pulled back to reality and was surprised to find his forehead rested against Cas’s chest, hands balled into his shirt. Cas’s hand combed through his hair as his breath came in small hiccups, his nose sniffling as the tears stained Cas’s shirt. For a moment they stayed silent, Dean calming and his breathing evening out.

“Dean…” Cas’s voice rumbled against him, “Whenever you doubt, look into me. See that you are always with me and that I will never abandon you. Let it be a reminder that you cannot destroy what I have for you. I fanned this flame with my own hands and you cannot smother it, no matter how hard you try. Do not fear Dean Winchester, I will always love you, and that is not a lie.”

Dean didn’t know what to do. There was so much he felt, so much gratification and disbelief, but he had felt it, he had felt Cas’s love and there was no doubting that it was there or how strong it was. He wanted to thank him for his love, his kindness, his forgiveness, his everything. So many things but too little words.

Determined to show just how much he cared, Dean grabbed the back of Cas’s shirt, pulling himself as close as possible, almost aggressive as he pressed himself against the angel in a hug. His arms shaking he pressed his face into Cas’s shoulder, still sniffling. He pushed his legs between Cas’s, tangling them so they were as close as possible. Trembling he spoke into Cas’s ear, “You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me Cas. I can’t ask for a better friend, you’ve done so much for me, probably stuff that I don’t even know about — and I love you Cas, I love you so much and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Cas froze for a second, taken by surprise, his hands hovering behind Dean’s back. Finally, he let them settle, wrapping around Dean and settling his chin on Dean’s head. “But you did tell me Dean, just now and before,” the angel’s voice was thick with emotion.

“But it’s not enough,” Dean whined, “I want to show you like you showed me, I want to make up for all the times I didn’t and when I was a dick and when I kicked you out and —”

“Shhhh,” Cas hushed him with fingers through his hair, “You have shown me Dean, and you can show me later. We have time now Dean. Don’t fret so soon.”

Dean nodded against his shoulder, “Okay, okay…” His weariness was kicking in, the crying only adding to the weight on his eyelids. And it probably wasn’t helping his emotion and word filter at the moment.

Cas chuckled lightly, “Sleep Dean, I’ll watch over you.”

Dean sighed, sinking into the warmth of Cas’s body and the hum of his grace, “Thank you.”

Dean felt Cas smile against his hair, “You’re welcome.”

Finally Dean felt the listlessness of sleep fall over him, he was sure Cas had something to do with it but he fell slowly, softly until he was barely conscious. With a fleeting thought, Dean reached out to Cas again, pressing into him every feeling he had for him into his mind. They were so close now and Dean was content. He pressed his love through and Cas did the same, both comforted in the love of the other. And as they listened to their living song, Dean fell asleep.

_________________

**November 17th 9:18 pm**

The next few weeks passed by uneventfully. It was funny how easily things rolled back to normal. One hunt here, another one there, nothing they couldn’t handle, especially with a newly charged angel. Most days Sam and Dean don’t need any ammo, or to even search around for that matter. Cas could see through almost all warding and survey the area in record time.

Heaven and hell seemed to have quieted down since Lucifer disappeared after Amara’s banishment. Only the occasional rogue demon caught their attention but nothing more. No Crowley poking his nose in, no angels searching for Castiel. It was strange having things go well for a change, but Dean couldn’t get comfortable with it.

Dean was happy Cas stuck around, hell, he was ecstatic — there’d still been that sliver of doubt that crept in telling him Cas would leave again, but as Cas had asked of him, Dean looked into his heart and doubted no more. He’d reach out and welcome the eternal well of fire that warmed his bones, love burning in his veins and Cas would smile, beaming at him like a star.

The weeks continued to roll by, becoming routine with plenty of time in between hunts. It’d been too long since they’d had so much time to themselves, time to relax. It was peaceful, too peaceful and Dean was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But when he wasn’t worrying about what lay around the corner, Dean spent all the time he could with his brother and his love. The first thing he made sure they did was a movie night. He let Cas pick everytime now which led to some questionable but enjoyable movie choices and friendly banter as to the best movies by James Cameron. Cas was very fond of “Avatar” and defended it with the thorough analysis and in depth interpretation of a PhD thesis. Dean argued just to mess with him, but he smiled when Cas talked back, enjoying the spark of passion in his eyes.

When they weren’t hunting or having family time, Sam would sometimes sneak off to his room or the library or wherever his little brother chose to go. It was clear to Dean Sam was giving him and Cas some alone time and Dean was forever grateful. Sometimes they’d have their own movie nights, watch the sappy romance ones that he never watched in front of Sam because hell, Cas wasn’t going to care and Dean loved him for that. They could do anything and Cas was content, though Dean insisted Cas choose something to do sometimes which often resulted in walks in the forest behind the bunker.

It shouldn’t have surprised Dean that Cas was a nature person, but he guessed he’d never really had the chance to realize it. Unfortunately, now that it was the winter months, snow littered the ground and chilled Dean’s skin whenever it was exposed to the open air. But lucky him, it just gave Cas an excuse to hold his hand and use his grace to warm him. Dean found that he enjoyed these walks. Sometimes they would walk in silence and others they would talk forever about their lives, their troubles, and the world.

Finally voicing their concerns and questions built up over the years was far less hostile and awkward than Dean was expecting. He guessed after knowing Cas so long and trusting him with every fiber of his being, he was comfortable enough to wear his heart on his sleeve and feel safe. They were never angry when they brought up old wounds, just aware that they should’ve been dealt with a long time ago and that they were fools to have waited so long. It was freeing, tying up loose ends and voicing their forgiveness. There were so many things unsaid between them, some that needed to be spoken and others that didn’t, but either way, it was a relief having the weight lifted from their shoulders. The guilt still lingered, but it would fade with time.

Before Dean knew it, it was November. It’d been a whole month since the witch hunt, yet it felt like no time at all. Dean wondered if this was how Cas felt after a century or two, time flowing before he had the chance to realize it.

Several weeks had come and gone and everything was still going well. It was throwing Dean off. He was enjoying this time, yes, but he wondered constantly if this would be the last moment they had to be happy.

Dean clung to Cas at night, he didn’t want to go to breakfast in the morning. He feared that as soon as Cas stepped out the door the universe would sweep him up and he’d be gone. This concern was not something Dean voiced but he suspected Cas knew something was off, he always did. He could feel the constant buzzing anxiety of Dean’s mind and the desperate grip of his hands. Dean believed Cas in that he wouldn’t leave him, but he knew that sometimes in this life, he wouldn’t have a choice.

That’s why he made all he could of the little moments, every touch would linger as would every kiss. Dean was eager to push their relationship into more than just messing around but he wanted Cas to make that decision and the angel seemed to be purposely avoiding involving anything below the waist. Dean couldn’t understand, Cas had been so willing at first but he would take what he could get. For now, they were content and Dean wanted to keep it that way.

He was especially content at the moment. It was late, no later than Dean would usually stay up but with the stars shining and the night sky smiling down at him he couldn’t help but be aware of the passage of time. He stood in the middle of grove, the trees bare but painted white on either side of him. It was rather cold but a firm warmth wrapped around his hand and flowed through his whole body, and though dark, he worried not of what he could or could not see. Castiel was his eyes, his warmth, and his guide.

Tonight was one of the nights Cas decided they’d walk again. This session turned out to be one of those spent in pleasant silence. Dean didn’t mind it. There was beauty in their quiet companionship, the simple unspoken movements and observations. Dean loved staring at the stars but his mind always wondered at the thought of Castiel’s wings rivalling the beauty of the universe before him. He always had moments when he yearned to see them again, to touch and admire, but he knew Cas felt more comfortable in his vessel, his _body,_ when he was around Dean. But Dean wanted to see _him_ again, because he loved all of Cas and he felt he was being deprived of a vital part of him. The drag of feathers and soft touch of clawed fingers were all he could think of some nights, combined with those blue eyes and powerful body. He wondered if Cas heard him then, but if he did, he never mentioned.

The snow crunched softly under his feet as he scooched closer to Cas, using the cold as an excuse to draw nearer. His breath blew out in hot puffs, rising until it vanished over his head. Dean stopped when he bumped Cas’s shoulders, glancing to see where the angel’s eyes shimmered with starlight. There was so much knowledge in those eyes and wonder. He’d seen the universe itself form and yet Cas still stared at the world in admiration, like it was precious. Dean sighed as Cas looked on, turning his gaze to stare back up at the stars. His heart and mind calmed in the silence, a rare moment of peace.

They stood for several minutes, doing nothing but watching and observing. Dean could still feel Cas’s contentment, swirling about his head like koi in a pond but there was also a nagging soreness polluting it. It was faint but Dean didn’t want to pry. They’d established early on that just because they could feel each others thoughts didn't mean they were comfortable being discussed. They were politely acknowledged and brought up when appropriate, but some things were best left to be figured out on their own. There still needed to be some privacy.

Dean returned his attention to the land again, refocusing on the powdered woodland. When he had finally relaxed again the sour taste grew louder. Dean’s brow furrowed as he glanced at Cas again. The angel’s face was harder than usual, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in thought. Sighing Dean turned to him, “Everything good Cas?”

Cas’s blue eyes turned to focus on him, the stars fading away as they left the light of his gaze. He worked his jaw, fingers tapping against his coat out of nervous habit. He took a deep breath, “Yes, everything is fine…” Dean didn’t believe him, but he wouldn’t force anything. “What about you Dean?” Dean wasn’t surprised by the turn around and just smiled. If Cas wanted him to start this conversation then he’d be willing.

Dean shrugged, “I’m good Cas, I’m really good.” Cas narrowed his eyes, lips pursed as he assessed his next words.

“Then how come it doesn’t feel like it?” Dean glanced away. So Cas had noticed.

Dean licked his lips, “It’s just the usual hunter instincts Cas, nothing new.”

“But I feel it from you almost every second of the day. Your anxiety is a constant white noise.”

“It’s just how I am.”

“But you don’t have to be Dean. We’re safe here in the Bunker. The world will not end tomorrow.”

“You never know, we’ve had some close calls before,” Dean pulled a smile.

Cas didn’t buy his display, face turning worried, “What are you afraid of?”

Dean swallowed, meeting his eyes, “What, it’s not like you don’t have your own fears. I can feel it too — you’ve got something on your mind. What is it? Afraid I won’t like you because of your vessel again, is that why you’ve been so hesitant?”

Cas shook his head, his brow furrowing further, “No — that is not my problem. Yes, I doubt sometimes, but you get me through it Dean. You’ve been patient with me and I want to do the same to you.”

“So you’ve been worried about me?”

“Yes,” Cas stated matter-of-factly, “I’m concerned Dean. You look happy but something’s keeping you from feeling truly at peace and I wish to know what that something is. _That_ is why I’ve been hesitant… I… I want you to fully enjoy it, to not be burdened. Love should be a sweet release not an act of desperation. Now that we have that time, I don’t want to rush this, as you said,” Cas spoke quieter, his shoulders sagging, “I didn’t realize my negligence would cause you further worry.”

Dean stroked his thumb against the back of Cas’s hand, “That’s okay Cas. Sex isn’t my main concern here.”

“But it’s bothered you,” Cas insisted.

Dean sighed, “Yes, but only because you were so eager at first and I didn’t know if I’d scared you off or something.”

Cas lifted his hand to his mouth, softly kissing the back of his knuckles without breaking eye contact, “Dean,” his voice rumbled on Dean’s skin, “I will never leave you unless you ask, remember?” The angel wrapped both hands around his one, channeling a steady stream of grace into his heart. It was the same love Dean always saw in him, an ever present reminder of what they were. His eyes slipped closed involuntarily as it pumped through his veins.

“Cas…” he started, lethargy making his tongue heavy, “It’s nothing you can help with.”

Cas’s breath tickled his hand as he kissed it again, “But it may help if you tell me about it.” Dean opened his eyes as Cas’s touch fell away, but then he saw the angel moving forward, placing a hand on his chest. In his eyes was a quiet plea, “Please tell me Dean.”

Dean saw the worry of the angel’s gaze, felt it bubbling nervously in his stomach. Cas merely wanted to know because he cared. It was always his instinct to help and Dean loved that about him even though it got him in troubles sometimes. But this was safe, for the both of them, there was no need for Dean to hide.

Taking a shaky breath, Dean gathered his thoughts, “Things are too good right now Cas…” The angel tilted his head at him, questioning but not speaking so Dean continued, “Things are going right for once and I’m… I’m afraid that sooner or later, it’s all just gonna disappear.” Dean tried to think of more to say but he found that it was just that simple. He was afraid of losing all they’d fought for.

Cas searched his face, the way he did when he was seeing through his eyes and into his soul. Keeping his hand on Dean’s chest, Cas spoke firmly, “Dean, I won’t be going anywhere.”

Dean huffed sadly, all his worry he’d been trying to stifle for the past month forcing its way to the surface, “That might not be your choice.”

Cas repeated, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean shook his head, “Cas you can’t be certain — there’s so much crap out there —”

“Dean,” the angel interrupted, eyes set in an intense and determined scan of Dean’s face, “The universe can be cruel, yes. But it can also be very kind. Look what we’ve achieved Dean? We’ve made it this far haven’t we? And however the cards unfold, whatever happens — I will find my way back to you.”

Dean didn’t believe what Cas was saying. He appreciated Cas trying to make him feel better but there were too many uncertainties. Something would go wrong eventually. Dean worked around the lump in his throat, formed as horror after horror passed through his mind. There was one in particular that nagged at him and left him absolutely broken. “And if you die?” Dean choked out, jaw set and teeth grinding together to bite back the emotion.

Cas paused, a sadness passing over his angelic features. He raised his hand, brushing it soothingly against Dean’s stubble. Dean stayed silent as Cas explored his face, stroking his fingers along his cheeks then dancing up into his hair. He scratched his scalp there, messing with his short locks before pulling him forward until his forehead rested against the angel’s.  It forced Dean to look fully into Castiel’s eyes.

“If I die…” Cas whispered, planting a soft kiss to his lips, “then I will fight through the void, I will crawl through hell and make my way back to you.” He stated it so matter-of-factly, as of it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Cas…” That was all Dean could say because he had no reply. But Cas hushed him as he continued on.

“The world may not be fair, but if there’s one thing that overcomes it, it’s determination. Have faith in me Dean. Have faith in my willingness to fight for you. I’ve done so since I fell and I won’t stop now.”

Dean simply nodded, letting Cas’s words sooth him. His thoughts whirled and the concentration must’ve shown on his face because Cas smiled. “Worry not of the future, my love. We can only fight one battle at a time. You can’t live now if you’re occupied by what lies ahead. Our hardships will come, but we’ll get through them. We can have a future Dean, we _will_ have a future.”

Dean loved Castiel’s passion, his utter certainty of _them._ It was inspiring and heartbreaking at the same time. Dean wanted to nod and agree but there was still one more thing. “Cas… you know I won’t live forever right?”

The angel’s face fell immediately. His gaze dropped to the middle of Dean’s chest as his hands slipped down to Dean’s shoulders. If Dean hadn’t have known Cas better, he might’ve been oblivious to the slight tensing of his hands on his jacket and the way his mouth drooped and eyes widened. It was all so slight a gesture Cas could’ve been a statue posing amongst the circle of barren branches. But Dean saw the moment the immense sadness settled on his shoulders at Dean’s words. Dean hated seeing him so but this was a point they could not avoid.

The angel was still staring without seeing as Dean spoke again, “I’m gonna grow old, lose my strength, my good looks, maybe my mind. I’m gonna die Cas, I’m dying now.”

In the softest whisper, Cas spoke under his breath, “I know… it’s been on my mind a very long time... “

“You don’t have to watch you know. I’m not gonna make you stay. God knows I pushed you away enough and now I’m selfish enough to want you back. I won’t chain you here with me.

Pursing his lips, Cas looked up again, a determined frown adorning his features. “Dean — I want to stay here.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Bullshit.” Dean blinked at Cas’s harsh words. “We both know how painful this can be, but we both know its worth it. I’ll watch you die, yes. But I will also watch you ascend. Heaven, Dean — I’ll make sure you get into heaven. And when you do, I’ll stay with you. I’ll come down and visit Sam until it’s time to guide his soul as well. You think I haven’t thought this through Dean? You’re wrong. I told you I was prepared to spend eternity with you. That is not a lie.”

A small, sad smile crept onto Dean’s face. He reached up and cupped Cas’s face in return, “It sounds too good to be true.”

Cas’s face softened, hands raising to rest on Dean’s own, “I stand by what I said… good things do happen Dean. Trust me...”

Dean smiled, remembering that time long ago when he was but a scared man fresh out of hell with the fate of the world on his shoulders. Then an angel had descended and told him he was needed. At the time the angel could never have known that it would be him that needed the human

The urge to touch and be close we too much. Dean rested his head against Cas once more. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling Cas’s breath on his face, his heat radiating as Dean rubbed their noses together. “Thank you Cas…”

“Of course Dean… anything for my Winchester.” Dean looked up at that, the slight teasing in Cas’s tone making him curious. Sure enough, Cas was gazing at him, eyes full of wonder with a hint of blown lust. His pink lips were parted, teasing his pearly teeth and wet tongue. Dean’s breath hitched at the sight. Cas must’ve heard because his mouth twitched at the corners. Dean worried his lower lip, trying to approach the obvious tension with some form of grace.

He coughed, “Uh… so… now that I’ve uh, confessed, are we good to — you know, do the dirty?”

Castiel smirked, this time, a full show of teeth and hooded lids, “Only if you promise me you’ll stop worrying. Try to focus on now and then we can have sex. Deal?”

It wasn’t even a question. Dean stared, mouth open because he couldn’t believe they were finally going to do this, “Hell yes.”

“Good, because we’ve waited too damn long.” With that, Castiel leaned forward and enwrapped Dean in a deep kiss. He didn’t let Dean come up for air until he’d had a good long pull at his tongue, causing sparks to fly in Dean’s mouth and behind his eyes.

Dean was already breathless, his mind buzzing, “Cas, you know we’re out in the middle of a forest right? Can’t we wait until we’re inside, you know, in a bed.”

“Oh yes of course,” Cas smirked, “Because the cold can have adverse effects on the size of your —”

“Hey wow,” Dean raised a hand to stop him, “Just because I get cold unlike you weirdo doesn’t mean you get to tease me about a natural human reaction.”

Cas chuckled, “Well then let’s go — so you can teach me about other said human reactions.”

Dean smirked at Cas’s attempt at dirty talk. It was hot no matter how cheesy it was, with those burning eyes and cheeks beginning to flush red. Smiling, Dean grabbed Cas’s hand, laughing as they ran back towards the bunker.

_________________

 

Dean shut the door behind him, smirking as Cas pushed him towards the bed. The back of his knees hit the footboard but Cas continued forward. With a smirk on his lips Cas grabbed him gently by the collar and sealed the distance with a kiss.

It was sweet and soft, Cas nippling lightly at his bottom lip before diving in for more. Cas’s hands wove their way behind Dean, sliding onto his back and pulling him closer. Dean fell into the movement, letting Cas do as he wished. All he did was reply to Cas’s unspoken words. When Cas seared his mouth with desperation, Dean would soothe him with his tongue. Every clutch of fabric was replied to with the breathless touch of his lips. Dean was much more practiced, his movements smoother, but there was a hunger in the angel’s motions that rivalled Dean’s own. The slow exploration grew more insistent. A fire burned in Dean’s belly and soon he shared the desperate need Cas was clawing into his skin.

Dean joined the clashing of teeth as they pushed to be closer. Cas tried to move Dean back further but once again he found them stuck against the bed. A low growl hummed in the angel’s throat at the slight annoyance.

Dean pulled back, taking deep, rapid breaths but managing to catch Cas’s eye, “You’ve been wanting this awhile haven’t you?” Cas ignored him, seeing Dean’s mouth not available, he closed in on Dean’s neck.

Dean failed to hold back a groan as the angel ravaged his throat with tongue and teeth, sucking and nipping and soothing. After a minute, Cas reluctantly drew back, hissing into his skin, “Too long.”

“You could’ve asked,” Dean’s breath hicked as Castiel sucked insistently on a spot under his ear that he knew would leave a bruise, “I’ve been ready to go since we got back.”

Cas huffed against the fresh hickey as he pulled away, meeting Dean’s eyes, “Then why didn’t _you_ ask?”

Dean panted, “Didn’t know if this was your kinda thing.”

Cas quirked an eyebrow at him. He didn’t need to hear Cas’s thoughts to know he was calling him a dumbass, “After I’d clearly advanced on you before you — thought I wouldn’t want to have sex?”

Dean scoffed, “Well you hadn’t seemed very keen on it in the past. Thought you wanted to take things slow.”

“Fuck slow,” Cas surprised him, “I didn’t have sex before because I wasn’t keen on the options available to me — and you seemed insistent I stick to women.”

Dean pulled back, “Wait — this whole time… _you didn’t tell me you were into men?!”_

Cas shook his head , “Seemed irrelevant.”

“Holy crap I’m a shit friend!”

“No you’re not — I just haven’t told you everything.”

Dean frowned, “But —”

“Shhh,” Cas hushed him with a finger to his lips, “Sex first, stories later.”

Dean nodded, trying to push back his surprise and concern, “Okay, yeah. I like that plan.”

Cas, satisfied, found his lips with new vigor. When he found that they were still stuck against the bed, without warning he grabbed Dean by the back of his thighs and lifted him with ease. Utterly taken aback, Dean tightened his grip around the angel’s neck as Cas held to his chest, wrapping his legs around his waist. Still kissing down his collarbone, Castiel walked them over to the bed and laid Dean down surprisingly gentle.

Dean could do nothing but stare as Cas locked eyes with him, crawling up and on top of him, his face framed by the faint glow of light in the room, eyes blown wide so the blue was only a halo around the dark windows to his grace — and it was the hottest thing Dean had ever seen. Dean had done this many times to girls he’d slept with but having it done to him, he finally understood the appeal. The sheer strength that Cas possessed, it was so easy to forget how strong he was when he was as kind and gentle as a lamb. But under the soft wool lay the heart and power of a lion.

“Come here,” Dean smiled into a wet kiss as he pulled Cas down by the fabric of his tie. Cas complied, pressing the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body. It was slow, and even still fully clothed, Dean knew the deliberate sloth of Cas’s movements, not yet giving him all he had to offer, dragging from him a deep need for more.

“Have you done this before?” Dean asked, curious.

“Yes,” Cas hummed, “I perfected it centuries ago. It’s just been a while.”

Dean sputtered, “Centuries? So you lied when you said you were a —“

“The Spartans were very eager men and Balthazar insisted,” Cas cut him off, “Stories _later_.”

Dean didn’t have time to respond and didn’t bother trying as Cas sealed their mouths together. Dean sat up to meet Cas’s embrace, the angel sitting in his lap as Dean wrapped his arms around his torso and Cas carded fingers through his hair. All he could feel was the warmth of Cas’s lips and the rough fabric dragging against his fingers. It wasn’t close enough.

On que, Cas pushed away and dammit Dean did not whine. Cas stared at him with those reddened lips and dark lashes, grabbing all of Dean’s attention. Cas spoke quickly, “Too many clothes.” Without hesitation Dean started unbuttoning his flannel, hands flying down his shirt when Cas stopped him. “Wait,” Cas rested his hand on Dean’s chest. Dean looked to him with confused excitement. “Let me.”

Dean’s heart fluttered in his chest as Cas’s fingers slowly worked their way down, undoing each button with simple efficiency. It gave Dean enough time to admire the gentle nimbleness of Cas’s touch, the teasing brush against his shirt that made his heart beat faster.

Cas continued, pulling the flannel from his shoulders then the shirt over his head. He made quick work of the buttons on Dean’s pants and pulled them off his feet. Cas took a quick second, admiring the planes of Dean’s physique, his hands twitching to touch but he restrained himself. Instead, he sat back, tugging off the tie from around his neck followed quickly by his coat and vest. Dean merely gazed in awe, Cas’s smooth skin and muscle slowly uncovered from the layers of clothes. Finally they were both down to their boxers and they sat, staring at each other.

Cas was the first to reach out, a hand tentatively caressing Dean’s skin. He traveled down, studying by touch the curve of his pecs, the bumps of his ribs all the way down to the slope of his hips. Dean had never been admired like this.  Usually, despite what he said, Dean wasn’t completely comfortable with his appearance. His chest wasn’t hard as rock, he was soft around the middle and the chub under his chin had grown with age. But Cas didn’t care, he loved it all, Dean could feel it in the touch of his hands and mind.

Cas smiled, sensing the course of his thoughts, “You’re beautiful Dean, every inch of you.” He leaned forward, a stark difference to the eagerness earlier. This was patient and deliberate. He planted a kiss right above Dean’s heart.

Dean could refuse to be romantic all he wanted but the truth was that this was the intimacy he craved but had never been able to achieve. It’d been a far off dream, a wish that would never come to be. But it had, somehow.

Blinking away the slight wetness in his eyes Dean reached out and cupped Cas’s face with both hands. “I love you, you know that?”

Cas smiled again, “Of course Dean, when have you not?”

Dean hummed, just staring at Cas’s smile and the joy that came with it. Eventually his eyes wondered, exploring the expanse of Cas’s body. It was his turn to touch.

He dragged his hands down from Cas’s face to his neck, from neck to his shoulders, feeling the toned shape of muscle and soft hair along his skin. They’d felt each other before but not like this, they’d always stopped before things got too heated. There’s was something deeper about this.

Dean paused at Cas’s waist band, fingers hovering. Cas wanted this, Dean reminded himself. And he wanted it so very desperately, to be close, to be intimate in ways that unified their bodies as well as their minds. There was no need to be hesitant.

Cas lowered his hand onto Dean’s, a warm look in his eyes urging Dean to continue. This was their moment, a beautiful and precious moment. Assured, Dean rested his hands on the band of Cas’s boxers and pulled down in one swift motion.

Cas was long and hard and beautiful. Course, dark hair trailed up from his groin until it ended softly at his naval. His cock was already red and dripping with anticipation, but still Dean simply admired, because this was the first time he had truly seen Castiel naked. His form in its entirety was exquisite: tan skin, hard muscle, gorgeous eyes and perfect cock.

“How are you so beautiful?” Dean whispered.

Cas rubbed his thumb over Dean’s hand where he still held on, “I’m only what you perceive me to be.”

Dean shook his head, “No. You are you, and you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Remember this is not my body.”

“It is now. It has been for a long time. I love _you_ Cas, not just your body but damn if I’m not gonna compliment you on it.”

Cas chuckled quietly, “The feeling is mutual.”

Dean smiled and helped Cas pull the boxers all the way off before leading Cas’s hands to his own. “Your turn cowboy.” Cas didn’t hesitate, pulling at the band as soon as his fingers touched his skin. Dean leaned back onto his elbows to let Cas pull them all the way off, his fingers twitching in the sheets as Cas’s hands brushed the more sensitive areas.

Cas paused for a moment once Dean was completely freed, showing the same admiration Dean had shown him, but to Dean’s surprise Cas leaned forward and Dean gasped as Cas’s hands were suddenly brushing down his stomach to his groin and his thighs.

“S-shit,” he stammered when Cas’s hands briefly brushed his length. Cas didn’t stop, he leaned down, breath slowly ghosting over his left thigh before licking the soft skin there. He dragged his teeth while simultaneously scraping his nails over his other thigh.

Dean groaned as Cas proceeded to work his way closer to his inner thigh and the weight rested against his stomach.  The angel wavered, eyes flicking up to meet Dean’s with a questioning tilt of his head. Dean didn’t speak, simply breathing heavily and watching. He was half tempted to tell Cas to quite the teasing but he didn’t have to. Without looking away, Cas slid a hand around the base of Dean’s cock, shifting to a better angle. Dean bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets as Cas lowered his mouth to the head of Dean’s dick, kissing it softly before taking him into his mouth in one smooth motion. The sudden onslaught of heat and wetness had Dean’s thighs twitching to wrap around Cas and keep him there. He hissed, forcing himself to keep watching and not fall back onto the pillow.

Cas lowered his eyes, lashes blinking against his flushed cheeks as he easily took Dean in to the base, the bonus of being an angel with no gag reflex. He began to suck and lick, twisting his tongue around and tasting Dean as eagerly as before. Dean couldn’t hold back his moans, with each slide of tongue another noise was dragged from his throat and his head lolled back in the bliss. Then Cas swallowed and Dean cried out, the angel’s name spilling from his lips. “Cas, fuck!”

Castiel hummed, continuing his pattern of suck, lick, swallow and it was driving Dean insane. “Cas, oh god — Cas!” Dean was panting the angel’s name, completely and literally blown away by how good he felt and the revelation that an angel of the lord was giving him the best blowjob of his life. It was perfect and Dean loved every second of it. And from how Cas mind was buzzing like an excited hummingbird he felt the same.

The angel started going faster and faster, driving Dean closer and closer until he had Dean writhing in the sheets. Suddenly he stopped and Dean was left shaking.

Dean gasped when his cock was abruptly exposed to the cold air. “What the hell?” Dean sputtered, “Don’t leave me blue balling here!” Cas was looking at him with a spark in his eyes, his mouth red and plush and smiling wide.

“Dean, I’ve just had a thought.”

“Well spit it out,” Dean panted.

Cas hesitated, worrying his lower lip, “Can I be inside you Dean?”

Dean lay there, staring at the angel as he breathed heavily, shaking, his lover waiting for an answer. Dean felt his cheeks heat up more than they already were. The request was a simple one, one Dean had fantasized many times. But he had never actually done it before. He had no experience in that area and for once Cas had the upper hand.

“What is it?” Cas’s smile slipped a little.

Dean quickly shook his head, “Nothing, I’ve just… never done it before, or anything really — with a man.” He laughed nervously, “It’s not like I don’t know what to do but I don’t know —”

“It’s okay Dean,” Cas soothed a hand down his thigh, “We don’t have to do that now. Whenever you’re ready.” The angel played absently  with the hair curling up to his navel, tickling slightly. “But if you don’t want that then can I ride you?”

Dean’s eyes went wide. He wet his lips as Cas looked up at him with want shining in his eyes. “Y-yeah,” Dean stammered, trying to keep the excitement from his voice, “That’s cool. Let me just —” Cas sat back as Dean leaned over to the table by his bed, pulling open the drawer and shuffling around inside. Finally he sat back up with a bottle and condom in his hand. “Here,” Dean held them out to Cas.

The angel smirked, “When did you buy lubricant?”

Dean shrugged, “Thought I’d be prepared.” The angel huffed and took the lube. Dean frowned, “What? No protection.”

“No need,” Cas stated, “I’m an angel.”

“Oh,” Dean raised his eyebrows, “Right.”

Dean watched, captivated as Cas popped open the bottle, squeezing the contents into his hand. This would so make up for Cas stopping mid blowjob. The angel reached out, once more wrapping a hand around his cock, stroking it thoroughly. Dean sighed at the return of pressure and soon Cas was done.

Cas looked up, “Would you like me to show you what to do?” Dean’s eyes went wide as the image of Cas preparing himself flashed through his head. He nodded.

Cas sat up onto his knees, reaching a hand behind him as Dean watched. Cas let out a gasp as he pressed two fingers inside him and began to work himself open. Dean stared wordlessly as his lover panted above him, slowly adding a third then fourth finger. Cas moaned unashamedly as he pushed back onto his hand until he finally deemed himself ready.

Dean gazed on him in wonder, Cas’s forehead damp and hair sticking up in a mess of brown locks. The angel stayed on his knees as he positioned himself, hovering above Dean's dick as he reached down to help guide his cock. With one hand on Dean’s dick and the other balancing himself on Dean’s chest, Cas locked eyes with him. There was a tense pause as Dean waited, simply staring, heart pounding. Then Cas lowered himself and Dean’s world exploded.

The angel took him in slowly. Dean gasped at every new inch of heat around him, whining and gripping the angel’s thighs as Cas lowered himself to squeeze the sides of his waist. He could barely breathe by the time Cas was fully settled, panting heavily and holding onto Cas’s legs, leaving white underneath his fingers. “H-holy crap,” Dean’s head fell back onto the pillow in a moment of pure ecstasy, “You feel so fucking good.” Smiling, Cas leaned down and planted a wet kiss on the side of his mouth, his arms shaking slightly.

“I can make it even better,” he whispered in a deep, gravely tone that made the hair on Dean’s neck stand on end.

Cas rocked his hips ever so slightly, forcing a moan from Dean’s throat. Never averting his eyes Cas continued, a roll of abs and hard muscle, slick skin moving before Dean’s eyes. Cas picked up the pace, rocking to a rhythm that Dean followed with enthusiastic thrusts.

Dean felt every push and pull as Cas moved on top of him, the angel raising up almost to his head before slamming back down. The sound of skin on skin, the smell of sweat and taste of Cas lingering on his tongue, he didn’t know a man could feel this good. There was so much pressure and heat, the sounds of pleasure spilling from their mouths.

Cas still gripped Dean’s chest as he rocked him into the sheets, but eventually he grasped for Dean’s hands on the bed, clutching them in a solid vice on the sheets. Cas was going faster and faster and Dean didn’t know if he could keep up. The pressure was building, a bone deep need churning in his stomach. Cas was fucking gorgeous, toned body rolling over his, giving him pleasure like he’d never had it before -- Dean needed to return the favor. It wasn’t fair that only he got to feel this good. “C-cas,” he panted. Cas kept going so Dean pulled him down, throwing him off his rhythm.

“Dean?” Cas breathed. Dean didn’t reply, he grabbed Cas’s arm and pulled. He rolled them with ease and Dean saw the look of surprise on Cas’s face as he was suddenly on top of him. Saying nothing Dean picked up were they left off. Dean dove for Cas’s lips, devouring them as he grabbed Cas’s thighs in a death vise and began thrusting. Cas cried out as Dean pounded into him, hips rolling with determined force. Cas immediately wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist and gripped his shoulders. “Dean!” he shouted as Dean thrust harder in a sudden burst of lust. “Like that huh?,” Dean panted, “Only the best for my angel.”

Dean felt Cas’s hot breath stuttering across his skin, tickling his face as he held himself up on his elbows and hammered Cas into the mattress. Cas clawed at his back as he plunged down again and again, hitting his prostate with each thrust. The panted unknown words that poured from Cas’s mouth only urged Dean onward. He swore he recognized enochian, whether curses or praises he didn’t know. But either way, Cas’s wrecked voice was music to his ears.

“Olaperita de en malpirgi zomdv congamphlgh i en ror zomdv dooain en napea od ol dobitza a zomdv moanu lap ol zir ge akarinu.”

Cas’s voice echoed in the confines of the room. Though not understanding, Dean knew the words were for him and held them close to his heart. Dean continued to sear his love into Cas’s body and kiss it into his skin. He poured as much love as he could until he staggered, feeling himself driven closer and closer to the edge, his vision growing brighter, “Cas I’m —”

“I know,” the angel huffed, “Please, I want to feel every bit of you.” Cas placed a shaky hand on Dean’s cheek. Dean looked up to meet Cas’s shining gaze. The smile on his face was light, free of any weight it previously held. No hard wrinkles or sad eyes, just happiness. Dean could not have been more grateful to be the reason for that smile.

Dean grinned back, joy running though his soul. Dean kept going, restarting his rhythm and reaching down to take Cas into his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts. It wasn’t long before Dean felt Cas tense under him as he felt his own climax peaking. And then they were spilling, crying each others names into their skin as they came.

Dean’s vision went white. He felt Cas splatter across his stomach and a strange buzz of something brushing his arms. He collapsed on top of Cas as they rode out the high together, panting breathlessly until they were finally left hugging each other in the darkness of the room.

Reluctantly Dean pulled out. After that they didn’t move for a while. Dean relaxed and closed his eyes, breathing against Cas’s skin. The angel brushed his arms with an impossibly soft touch that eased the tension in his shoulders, making him sink further into the cushion of Cas’s chest. Cas continued to brush his arms with what seemed like the softest blanket Dean had ever felt. It took a minute for his brain to realize that Cas’s hands were also in his hair. He frowned, mind slowly processing before he lifted his head.

Cas was smiling down at him with a lazy grin, glee so apparent in his expression. Dean was momentarily distracted by that face, his eyes aglow was happiness and messy hair that was sticking up at every angle possible. It was so ridiculous but so very Cas. Another brush on his arm brought Dean back to the present. Dean jumped slightly and turned his head to look at where he’d been touched. He froze.

Dean blinked a couple times to make sure he was seeing things right. “Uh, hey Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“Am I seeing things?”

“No, you’re not hallucinating,” Dean could hear the smile in his voice.

“Those are your wings?”

“Those are my wings,” Cas confirmed.

“You’re brushing me with your wings.”

“Yes.”

“Those are your actual wings touching me right now?”

“Yes Dean,” Cas laughed softly.

Dean watched, mesmerized as feathers dipped in black sea and sprinkled with diamonds unfolded before his eyes. Each feather fanned out as Cas raised them up for display. Dean forgot to breathe as the wing spread fully, stretching upward until it couldn’t stretch any further, touching the ceiling. Like Dean had seen before with Cas’s trueform, the color of the wings shifted, swirling in nebulous hues of blue and black and gold. It was no less amazing now as it had been before. The beauty of them left Dean speechless. It wasn’t until Cas’s other wing pressed against his side that he finally twisted his head.

Dean stared as the feathers caressed his arm and torso, the drag of them sending sparks down his skin. Dean raised a hand, ghosting over them. “Can I touch them?” Dean asked in a whisper.

In response, Cas pressed his wing into Dean’s hand. Dean gasped as his hand disappeared into the vast galaxy hidden in the angel’s feathers. It was like he’d dipped his fingers into a pool of liquid black, a strange paradox of cool and warm sensations tingling up his arm. Dean stared at the spot for a moment before moving his hand. He explored gently, roving the mural of soft galaxies and constellation. It was indeed a physical wing, Dean could feel the muscle and bone beneath his fingertips and where the quills met the skin. Despite being aware of the individual feathers the outside pattern persisted in its uniformity, melding the wing together so it was near impossible to discern one feather from another.

“I didn’t know you could bring them out… how do you do it?”

“Angels don’t usually show their wings to humans, it takes some energy to bring them to this plane but sometimes we like to do so in solitude. That way we don’t feel so confined in our vessels… but I wanted to manifest them for you… it’s normal for angels to want to show themselves to those they’re comfortable with. It's a gesture of trust,” Cas explained shyly.

“So it's an angel boner,” Dean grinned.

Cas smiled and smacked him lightly on the head with his other wing, “No.”

Dean chuckled and continued combing through Cas’s feathers in methodical circles, watching as the movement created hypnotic swirls in the tiny universe. “So you can manifest them anytime you want?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you show me before?” Dean ripped his gaze away from the angel’s wings, meeting his eyes.

Cas frowned slightly, “I… I felt that reminding you of my inhumanity would be discomforting. You’ve only known me with this face for so long, and the only time you saw me as I am… I hurt you Dean…”

“Hey,” Dean poked him in the chest, “One, no moping after sex, that’s a rule. Two, being mind controlled by a witch does not count as you hurting me. I know it’ll take a while for you to not feel guilty about that Cas, but trust me, I do not blame you for what happened. You understand that?” Cas nodded solemnly, averting his eyes. “Hey,” Dean said again, leaning up to peck Cas softly on the lips, “And never think you have to hide your angel side from me. It’s a part of you, and I want to love every part of you, inside and out,” Dean winked and waggled his eyebrows. Cas’s smile returned and Dean couldn’t help planting another kiss to his lips. “And one more thing,” Dean booped Cas on the nose, “I want to see more of those wings, got me?”

“But —”

“No buts,” Dean intervened, “They’re gorgeous and hot as hell so we are definitely going to use those.”

Cas’s eyebrows shot up, “You mean…”

“Yes. You don’t know how many people fantasize about this so I am taking advantage of it while I’ve still got the stamina. And also —  don’t you have six wings?”

“Yes but I don’t believe they’d fit in this room —”

“We’re using them,” Dean beamed at him, “You’re stuck with me now Cas, you’ve got to learn that I’m a kinky son of a bitch.”

Cas cocked an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face, “Well next time don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Dean grinned, “Good, now there’s no backing out. You’ve got the... maelpere upaah.” Dean butchered the enochian pronunciation but the meaning seemed to get through to Cas.

Dean watched Cas blush. He was surprised to see that his wings also blushed, poofing up until Cas looked like a flustered ball of floof.

“Awwww,” Dean couldn’t help but tease, tilting his head and snuggling it against one wing, “You’re cute you know. You look like a flustered cockatoo.”

Cas pouted, his wings poofing even more, “I am not cute. I am a multidimensional warrior made of eyes and flame — you do not call me cute!”

Dean smiled at him, all gum and teeth, “You're still cute.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Noo,” Cas whined as he wrapped his wings and arms around Dean, pulling him closer to his chest. “Will you be quiet now?” Cas mumbled into Dean's hair.

“No!” Dean declared through a muffling layer of feathers. He laughed as Cas’s wings pressed down on him, preventing him from popping his head up to scowl at him. “Hey I still need to breathe you know?”

Dean imagined the dramatic eye roll as Cas sighed and shifted his wings to rest on Dean’s back, “I guess I won’t smother you.” Dean chuckled as he raised his head to look up at his angel. The fondest of smiles pulled at Cas’s lips and Dean stared at it for a while before finally deciding to move.

“Here,” Dean pushed himself up so he could crawl up and snuggle himself against Cas’s side. Cas scooched to accommodate him, spreading his wing underneath Dean to lay on. Once Dean had gotten comfortable, pressing a hand to Cas’s chest and resting his head on his shoulder, he reached for Cas’s wings, grabbing the longest feathers and pulling them over him like a blanket. Cas seemed to like that, grace glowing with warmth and affection as Dean pressed his nose into the dark downy feathers. The smelled even better than Dean’s imagined. He closed his eyes and sighed, the afterglow and comfort of the angel’s embrace like a lullaby.

“So…” Cas murmured above him, “Did you enjoy it?”

Dean reluctantly cracked his eyes open, “Hell yeah I did. Cas you’re freaking amazing.”

The angel gave a shy smile, “I’m glad you found my skills adequate.”

“Nuh uh,” Dean shook his head drowsily, “I said you were a-ma-zing. Give yourself some credit.”

Cas smiled and leaned down to plant a kiss on Dean’s forehead, “Thank you Dean.”

Dean blinked hard to keep his eyes open, trying not to doze off in the middle of the conversation, but he was feeling rather drowsy considering they just had intense sex and that it was probably now the early hours of the morning. Cas took notice and wrapped his wing tighter around Dean’s body. “You’re tired Dean, sleep.”

“But I ain’t done telling you how great you are.”

“You can continue telling me tomorrow, now sleep.”

Dean gave in, closing his eyes and sighing against Cas’s skin, “Fine. But hey… you enjoyed yourself too right?”

Cas chuckled, “Yes Dean, I’d love to do this again.”

“Good,” Dean mumbled, mind slowing as Cas’s wings drew him deeper into sleep, “Because this is the best I’ve felt in a long time.”

There was a pause. Dean was almost fully asleep by the time the angel responded, “Me too… I love you Dean.”

“I love you too Cas…” A pleasant silence settled between them, the atmosphere heavy but comfortable.

“Are you finally going to sleep now?”

“Yeah… goodnight Cas.”

Cas shifted to wrap an arm around Dean’s waist, resting his head on the pillow, “Goodnight beloved, sweet dreams.” Dean hummed quietly before finally letting go and dozing off to sleep.

_________________

Castiel sensed when Dean's mind finally sunk into slumber. A light hum in his conscious told him that Dean’s dreams were pleasant ones, ones filled with contentment and love and a hint of feathers. He caught flashes of images and chuckled to himself.

He was content to let Dean sleep, feeling his breath, hearing his heartbeat as the angel lay basking in the pleasant silence, Dean's soul singing a melody that placated his grace. It was a rare thing, one Cas had only begun experiencing in the past decade of his millions of years. Whenever Dean was near, his mind was brought to rest, anxiety calmed in the presence of such a bright and beautiful soul. If only he had known at the start why it was so.

It was their own little universe here in Dean’s room, they were sleeping gods, safe and powerful with no force able to tear them apart. It wouldn’t always be that way when they faced the outside world again, but in all his long life Cas has never been more confident that in the end everything would be okay.

Cas shifted on the bed, resting his chin on the top of Dean's head. Dean instinctively turned towards Cas’s chest, pressing himself closer. It warmed Cas’s heart, Dean trusting him so utterly and finding comfort in his embrace. Happy tears wet his eyes as the full weight of their bond was realized in his mind. He hugged Dean tight and curled his wings around his back.

Their hearts and souls were entwined, their paths forever one and nothing in the universe could break them. With heart full and mind calm, Cas lay there. It had taken him his whole life, the entire history of creation but Castiel finally thought he had found true meaning. To love and be loved, to accept and give away, to do good to the best of his ability… once that was satisfied, Cas could truly be at peace with himself and his mistakes. There was regret and pain, but he thought he might be able to live with it now. He wanted to live, for himself, for Dean and for the future they could share together. Cas closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of musk, leather, and warmth. He was satisfied with the result of his long journey.

The hours flew by and still Cas did not move, letting his human sleep in his arms. He memorized Dean’s heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest... Castiel would cherish this moment forever. Time continued to move around them and he smiled. When the sun finally rose, Cas was happy to face a new day and to see what new wonders life would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> "Olaperita de en malpirgi zomdv congamphlgh i en ror zomdv dooain en napea od ol dobitza a zomdv moanu lap ol zir ge akarinu" = (rough translation) light of my life, your spirit is my sun, your name my sword and I fall in your eyes for I am not worthy (I really wanted to say "light of my life, your spirit is my sun, your name my sword and I fall into your eyes for I do not want to fly without you" but enochian doesn't have the largest vocabulary)
> 
> "maelpere upaah" = hot wings (literal translation - fire wings)
> 
> Aah that was it guys! >_< It's finally done! I can't believe I finally finished this! I'm so glad so many of you spent the time to read this and said so many nice things :3 This was my first long fic and I'm looking forward to making more in the future (I've got another one planned though it will probably take a while) Thank you so much for sticking with me on this long ride <3 Love y'all - thank you!


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